


a beachfront of bad blood

by castielanderson



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Borderline Personality Disorder, DBT, Depression, Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, Eating Disorders, M/M, NO ACTUAL RAPE IN FIC, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, discussions of rape, north dakota fic, the gang gets real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 06:25:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12765042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanderson/pseuds/castielanderson
Summary: or alternatively “Dennis Tries to Kill Himself: MacDennis Remix”Originally for the 2017 MacDennis Big Bang, but alas.They don’t have a falling out so much as a slowly drifting apart.  Being a dad makes Dennis tired, so tired sometimes he feels like he might never have energy again, and that means that he stops checking in with Mac as often.  Eventually, they stop talking.  Mac gets a boyfriend.  Dennis stops taking his medication.After Dennis attempts suicide, Mandy insists he return to Philadelphia with the gang, and she will follow with Brian Jr. when she can.  Faced with an unwanted recovery, a failed family, and feelings he would rather ignore, Dennis is forced to navigate uncharted waters within himself and within his relationship with Mac.





	a beachfront of bad blood

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote "Dennis Tries to Kill Himself" like immediately after finishing sunny, and then later realized there was a lot more i wanted to say/explore - like dennis going to dbt, dennis confronting his rapist self, etc. etc. so i started writing this as a "dennis' version of events" sort of sequel and it exploded into this. PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND HEED THEM AS WARNINGS thanks. i know a lot of this is def projecting but i also tried to stay as true to the characters as possible while actually having them go through massive amounts of character development. i hope that comes through. you can find me @ borderlinedennisr on tumblr xoxo

PART I 

. 

July

 

Mandy doesn’t find out about the BPD until Dennis’ first public breakdown, about a month and a half into his stay in North Dakota.  They take Brian Jr. out to dinner.  It’s family night at the local bar and grill, and kids eat free from four until seven PM.  There’s restaurant-wide bingo and all the servers are wearing colorful bowties.  Dennis sits across the table from the two of them, smiling as his son scribbles with crayon on a coloring sheet.  A few days ago, he drew a sun for the first time - or more accurately, a sun that looked like a sun - a yellow circle.  Mandy explained that this was a huge cognitive development for him, and Dennis had smothered him with a big hug and a kiss to the forehead, proud that his son was fully on his way to becoming a famous artist.

Dennis’ phone lights up in his pocket, and he checks it absently with a dopey smile still on his face.  Mandy’s snapping a couple pictures with her own phone.

 

**Mac**

i officially have my first boyfriend

 

It takes a second for the words to register in his brain, and when they do, Dennis nearly crushes his phone in his fist.  Instead, he lets it clatter on the tabletop, and fuming, leaves the booth in a hurry.  He knocks over Mandy’s water on the way out, and Brian Jr. is so startled that he starts crying, but Dennis can’t find it within himself to care.  All he can feel is blind rage.  It’s the first time Mac has texted him since he left.

He exits the restaurant, shaking and full of heat.  The few smokers outside are startled as he pushes through them and rounds to the backside of the building.  Once he’s safely away from prying eyes, Dennis sinks to his knees, pulls hard on his hair, and screams until his throat is raw.  A couple of the smokers peak around to look at him, so he stares at them directly without blinking until they leave him alone.

A hand claps down his shoulder and he jumps.  It’s Mandy, eyes wide and terrified.

“Dennis - ?”

“Where’s Brian Jr.?” he asks without looking at her.

“Jane was inside.   She saw you leave and came over to me.  Offered to look after him so I could come here and check on you.  Criminy Christopher, Dennis - what’s going on?”

He closes his eyes.  He’s still shaking violently.

“Breathe, Dennis.”

He does, in through his nose, out through his mouth.  In, out, in out, in, out, until he’s calm

again.  But the minute he gets there, the now-quelled anger is replaced with sobs and desperation.  He collapses, and Mandy lowers herself to the ground next to him.

“Dennis - ?”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out.  “I’m sorry, I - “

“Easy, easy,” Mandy says.  She rests a hand on his thigh and moves her fingers in circles.

“They’re leaving me,” Dennis gasps.  “They’re all moving on.  They don’t care about me anymore.  They’re leaving me.”  

He repeats variations of this until he’s too tired to keep his lips moving, and then it’s just jolted breaths and watery hiccups.  Eventually, he succumbs to exhaustion and Mandy helps him up, leads him to the car.  He slides into the front seat and leans his head back on the headrest.  Mandy returns shortly with Brian Jr., who’s munching on a to-go order of chicken tenders.  Mandy settles him into his carseat before joining Dennis in the front.  She says nothing on the drive home, and Dennis only stares out the window, disjointed.

When they arrive home, Mandy puts Brian Jr. in his high chair.  Comfortably seated with all the chicken tenders his little fists can hold and a sippy cup full of juice, Mandy approaches Dennis and gives his arm a squeeze.

“Come with me,” she says, and he follows her into the adjacent living room.  They both settle on the couch.  Dennis can’t look at her.  She thinks he’s fucking crazy; he knows it.  “Just talk to me, Dennis,” she says softly.

He turns his head away and clears his throat.

“Listen, it’s - it’s nothing.  I just - I know I seemed I really out of a control, but I promise I would never, _never_ hurt Brian Jr. or you.  He’s - he’s one of the best things to ever happen to me, I don’t - “  He breaks off.  He’s starting to shake again.  Mandy reaches out and rests her hand on his knee.

“I believe you, Dennis,” she says.

Dennis almost starts sobbing again.  Mandy’s too fucking kind for him.  He doesn’t deserve her.  He doesn’t deserve her at all.  He’s scared she’s going to realize this.  And then she’ll leave him too, and she’ll take Brian Jr. with her, and he’ll never get to be the father he so desperately wants to be.

“I take medication for it,” he promises, meeting her eyes.  It only takes a second for him to regret saying it, because Mandy’s hand tenses.  She blinks a few times, and her face flashes between confusion, fear, and apprehension.

“Medication for what?”

Dennis wants to bite right through his tongue.  He looks away again.  “Um - two years ago, I - I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder.  I take lithium because I have really, um - extreme mood swings.”

Mandy nods, and her hand relaxes again.  She makes a small noise, somewhere between a laugh and sigh.  “I never wanted to pry, but - I was concerned about you, concerned about your moods.”  She doesn’t sound mad, but Dennis can’t tell if she sounds calm either.

“I didn’t take the pills at first,” Dennis admits.  “But it started to dawn on me that I was really - well, fucking crazy.  So I told myself I would try them out, get through the month prescription.  And they helped.  At least a little.”  

He doesn’t mention that Mac all but forced him to take them after a really bad episode that started with him embarrassing himself on national television, that Mac was the one who shoved a pill in front of him every day for the first thirty days, arguing with him, sometimes for hours, until he swallowed it.  He doesn’t mention that Mac was fucking terrified for him at that point in his life, that he was completely unstable, falling apart at the seams and losing his grip because so many wrong things were happening.  He doesn’t mention that he was suicidally depressed for days at time, little bouts of intense anger or mania cropping up when he least expected it.  He doesn’t mention that he’d probably be dead without Mac.

“That’s good,” Mandy says.  She gives him a small, encouraging smile.

She’s content now, but Dennis knows that eventually, just like everyone else, she won’t be able to stand him, with or without his medication.

 

August

 

After Mac texts him, Dennis doesn’t text him for weeks.  He’s busy, anyway.  Being a parent is hard, and the exhaustion starts to seep in.  He works odd hours and spends every other waking moment with Brian Jr.  He babysits so Mandy can have a life.  She encourages him to make friends, but it’s not easy.  No one is good enough for him.

He texts Mac at two AM after a particularly rough night at work.  The only job he could get was one at a twenty-four gas station, and the stupidity and ignorance of rural North Dakota is really starting to get to him.  He’s already lost his cool a few times, but after a threat from his manager, he’s opted for smoking joints before every shift.  If he needs a real boost, he keeps a small bottle filled with gasoline in his pocket and inhales it in the bathroom just to calm him down and ease his anxiety.  Charlie taught him that trick.  He tries not to think about it.

Tonight however, was made almost impossible to handle.  He dealt with a bus full of elderly choir members on their national tour.  He doesn’t know how he dealt with all thirty of their incredibly slow minds and even slower, shaking hands.  He’s surprised he didn’t punch a hole through the wall.  When he gets home to his small, cramped guest room, his heart is pounding.  He’s so riled up and all he wants to do is to be able to curl against Mac’s chest and feel his rough hands in Dennis’ hair.  He pulls out his phone and types one word.  It almost kills him.

 

Today, 2:07 AM

 

Congrats.

 

He falls asleep shortly thereafter, but in the morning, wakes up to a string of texts.

 

**Mac**

i hope ur doing well. i get worried about u sometimes.  like please tell me ur eating at least two meals a day n taking ur meds dude

 

**Mac**

he’s really nice

 

**Mac**

thanks man!!

 

Irrationally irritated, Dennis only sends one text back.

 

Today, 11:47 AM

 

Of course i’m taking my meds.

 

He doesn’t eat much.  Mandy shoves whatever she can into him, but he tries to refuse.  It doesn’t matter.  He can survive on stale coffee, cigarettes, and cheap beer.  He’s done it for years.  And it’s not like he has anyone to impress anymore.  He can look like shit if he wants.  Mandy puts up with him because he’s the father of her son.  He doesn’t love her.  Never has.  Never will.  

The other thing he’s discovered about being North Dakota is that, along with being fucking exhausted all the time, he has no desire to go out and work The D.E.N.N.I.S. System anymore.  Actually getting to know Mandy as a human being sort of turned off any of that behavior, and if he thinks too long about the many other women he’s fucked and/or fucked over, he wants to throw up.  He recognizes that he used to be real fucked up, but he sort of doesn’t want to confront it any deeper than that.  He’d rather masturbate to shitty porn in peace.  

Sometimes he entertains the idea of asking Mandy to revisit the night Brian Jr. was conceived, but after everything, he has a hard time even thinking of her as the person she used to be.  She’s the mother of his unplanned child, a friend at most.  He can’t fuck her.

Sometimes he thinks about Mac fucking his boyfriend, wondering if Mac takes it or gives it.  He pretends to not notice his dick getting hard during these moments.  Dennis places a bet with himself.  Mac and his boyfriend will only last six weeks tops.  Eventually this guy will grow tired of Mac’s Bible banging and nagging attitude and he’ll jump ship.  Dennis is the only one strong enough to handle Mac if he’s honest.  He comes with a smug smile on his face, telling himself it’s the feeling of his own superiority that does it, and not the image of Mac underneath him.

In reality, Mac and his boyfriend are over before Dennis fully comprehends that they’ve started.  By that time, Mac has new one.  And Dennis still hasn’t even had sex.  Over time, the exhaustion envelops him even here, and Dennis becomes too tired to masturbate.  He drinks a little more each night instead.

 

September

 

By the time fall settles in North Dakota, Dennis finds it hard to hold any joy in his life.  Brian Jr. is special, there’s no doubt about that.  He’s Dennis’ son.  But he’s also a toddler - a whiny, bratty, ungrateful toddler, and sometimes the soft hum of his voice saying, “Dada,” isn’t enough.  Sometimes Dennis has to twist his anger around and turn it inward because if he didn’t, he’d be taking out his aggression on a helpless kid.  Dennis starts giving himself bruises and tells himself that it’s a good thing.

While he’s rotting away in the rural Midwest, everyone else keeps moving on.  Mac has a boyfriend, Sweet Dee’s stand-up comedy has gotten up just a bit off the ground, Charlie’s forgotten about the Waitress after her pregnancy scare, and the bar is actually doing well.  The bar is doing well.  Despite Dennis’ previous belief that he was the only one who ever held the bar together, it’s doing well.  Frank’s even talking about fixing up the bathrooms.

He’s on the phone with Dee, and he digs his nails into the palm of his hand to keep from lashing out.  The gang doesn’t need him, has never really needed him, and now he’s even starting to wonder if Mandy and Brian Jr. need him either.

“How’s my nephew doing anyway?” Dee asks.

Dennis has to force his mind back to the present.  “Fine,” he says.  It’s a reflex.  “Mandy signed him up for pre-school.  He just started.  It’s kind of just a glorified daycare, but her friends’ kids go there and she wants him to start being social, you know?”

“Aww, that’s good,” Dee says.  

She’s right.  It is good.  Good for Brian Jr.  It hasn’t been good for Dennis.  Without the opportunity to constantly distract himself in his free time, Dennis is left alone.  He works nights five days a week while Mandy and Brian Jr. sleep, and in the morning, he’s no longer needed to babysit.  Brian Jr. goes to pre-school, Mandy goes to work, and Dennis spends all his time wandering the house or buried in bed.

“I’m really bored,” he admits.  He laughs, and it sounds strained and awkward.  “I don’t know what to do without the little guy.”

“Jeez, don’t you have any friends?” Dee mutters, and she’s probably being sarcastic, but it stings.

He doesn’t respond.

“Dennis?” Dee asks.

“What?”

“You don’t have any friends there, do you?”

Dennis scoffs.  “I’ve only been here a couple months, Dee.”

“Still,” Dee insists.  “Like - not even your coworkers or anything?”

“I work my shifts alone,” Dennis says, indignant.  It’s true, at least.

“What about chicks?” Dee asks.  “How many women have you date-raped so far?”

Again, he doesn’t respond.  He swallows hard, throat tight.  “I’m not - I haven’t really been sleeping around anymore.”  He looks down at his lap and picks at the front of his jeans.  There’s a little hole that’s fraying.  He rubs the loose thread between his fingers.

“Have you even got laid since you got there?”

“No,” Dennis says quietly.

“Jesus,” Dee mumbles.  “Are you alright, Dennis?  Or has North Dakota turned you into some kind of zombie?”

He’s uncharacteristically quiet again.  He finds himself shrugging before he realizes that Dee can’t see him.  “I’m fine, Dee,” he huffs.  “It’s just - it’s really different than Philly.”  He forces another awkward laugh.  “Way less to pick from.  Nobody quite up to par.”  There.  That sounds like him.

“Whatever,” Dee says.  “See ya later, Dennis.  I’ve got a date with my pillow.”

She hangs up before he has the chance to say anything else.  He pulls his phone slowly from his ear and stares at the screen for a second before turning it off.  He glances at his closed door, knowing Mandy’s probably still awake.  He doesn’t move.  He feels hollow inside.

.

At this point, Dennis considers the possibility that he might be depressed.  He thinks he needs to make some kind of change, so when he goes to pour out his lithium one morning only to find the bottle empty, he spends an absurd amount of time staring at his palm.  Then he decides, fuck it - he’s not going to take his meds anymore.  Maybe he used to be crazy.  Maybe his emotions used to be a little extreme, but fuck, at least he felt something before.

As if he’s fucking telepathic, Mac texts him later that day.

 

Today, 4:17 PM

 

you okay man?  haven’t heard from you in awhile and dee says you seemed rlly down when she talked to u the other day??  how you holding up out there?

 

Dennis rolls his eyes so hard he goes dizzy.  He texts back:

 

I’m fine, Mac.  Dee doesn’t know shit.

 

Mandy, may God rest her fucking soul, doesn’t notice anything for at least weeks.  Dennis doesn’t necessarily feel better off his meds, but he no longer feels emotionless.  His emotions are a lot stronger, not necessarily in a bad way, but they’re potent.  He has a different kind of energy now, a constant buzzing under his skin.  It makes him feel alive.  A little too alive sometimes.  If he’s honest, he feels fucking crazy again, but at least it’s better than feeling nothing.

He doesn’t have a meltdown this time around.  In fact, they’re just having a simple movie night with Brian Jr. when Mandy decides to interrogate him.  Brian Jr. had picked _Inside Out_ to watch, which Dennis thinks anyone would cry at - it’s a masterful tale that tugs at the heartstrings, but Mandy is suddenly overwhelmed with his sobs, and asks to talk to him after she deposits a sleeping Brian Jr. to his room.

“Dennis?” Mandy asks, and she sits down next to him on the couch.

He raises his eyebrows, trying not to look like a complete asshole.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m great,” Dennis replies firmly.

Mandy grimaces.  “Dennis,” she says gently, and he knows he’s in for it.  “I don’t want to step on any toes here, but you’ve seemed off lately.  I know we’ve only talked about your mental health a couple times, but - “

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Dennis interrupts.  “You see, I don’t really like to talk about my mental health, Mandy.  I prefer to take care of things myself and leave anyone else out of it.”

Mandy nods, patient.  Dennis grinds his teeth together.  “I understand,” she starts, “but if you’re not healthy, you know - it affects Junior and me.”

He bites down hard on his cheek, forcing himself not to give into the anger.

“Are you still taking your medication, Dennis?”

He squirms.  There’s a part of him that knows this bad.  That part of him wants to lie, to tell her that yes of course, he would never in his right mind go off his medication.  He studied psychology at Penn.  He knows the drill.  But he’s not in his right mind.  And he opens his goddamn mouth like the asshole he is.

“You know what, Mandy - no, I’m not,” he says, and he’s turning on the familiar voice of superiority - the one he uses to manipulate people.  “I found that they were starting to have an adverse effect.  I was feeling desperately depressed and found that not taking them actually alleviated the feeling.”

Mandy nods, slower.  “Did you happen to consult a psychiatrist or therapist about this?”

Dennis laughs, but punctuates the moment by laying a hand on Mandy’s knee.  “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but I graduated Penn with a degree in psychology.  I like to think I’m pretty capable of making my own decisions regarding my psychological health.”  It’s a lie, but isn’t everything in his life?

Mandy just stares at him, eyes slightly vacant.  She looks like she doesn’t even know him.  He lets go of her knee and she closes her eyes.  She sighs deeply.  “Dennis, why don’t you eat?”

The question strikes him like a punch to the jaw.  He has no answer for this.  She’s got him, because to this day he has still never even entertained the idea for a moment that his eating habits are unhealthy, or even irregular.  Sure the idea crops up in the back of his mind, but he always, immediately swats it away.

“What?” he asks, voice oddly high.

“You don’t eat,” Mandy says.  It’s not a question.  “I’ve been around you every day for four months now Dennis, and you avoid food like the plague.”

“I have a very strict diet regimen,” Dennis scoffs.

“You have an eating disorder,” Mandy challenges.  Something flashes in her eyes, something Dennis has never seen before.  It’s dark, and he knows she’s about to fight him toe to toe.  “Do you have a therapist, Dennis?”

He clenches his jaw.  “No,” he admits.

Mandy nods again, but it’s like a reflex.  She turns her gaze away from him, biting her lip.  Her hands grip her knees, and she rocks herself back and forth for a moment before her eyes swing back and meet his with determination.  

“I don’t think you should be off your meds.”

“Well, too bad,” Dennis snaps.  “I’m not going to take them.”

“What good is it doing you to be off them?” she challenges, and her voice is really starting to sound angry.

“It’s doing everything,” Dennis shoots back.

“It’s not,” Mandy counters.  “It’s absolutely not.  I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve stopped, but you’re a completely different person.  You’re over-emotional, you’re flaky, you’re always completely out of it, you’re - “

“I’m a god!” Dennis roars.

Mandy stands up, towering over him as she makes hushing noises.  “Goddamnit, Dennis.  You’re going to wake Junior.”

He meets her on his feet.  “I’m not taking my fucking meds, Mandy.  I’m not.

“Why?” Mandy asks.  “Just tell me why.”

“I don’t - it’s not - you don’t need to - ,” Dennis splutters.

“Jesus, Dennis - just give me one good reason.”

“Because they make me want to kill myself, alright?” he whisper-shouts.

That shuts her up.  All defiance seeps from her form and she stares back at him with sad eyes.  She takes a step back and brings her fingers together.

“Dennis - “

He swats a hand at her.  “Leave it.”

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“It’s fine,” he says, and he’s calm.

A long, stressful silence hangs between them.

“I still don’t know that you’re completely healthy,” Mandy says with a small shrug, “but you don’t feel suicidal anymore? 

Dennis swallows.  “No,” he lies.  “I don’t.”

 

October

 

The cold weather makes Dennis tired.  The lack of sun fucks with his emotions.  Working evenings/nights and having Brian Jr. in school guarantees that Dennis is awake to see the sun for two hours a day maximum.  He rolls out of bed around two, drives to the pre-school to pick up Junior, and is home in time to meet Mandy at the door.  He eats dinner with them and heads to work at the filthy gas station where he spends his night cleaning bathrooms and selling Cigarellos to teenagers who have nothing better to do than strip them of tobacco and stuff them with weed.  

Dennis breaks eventually, and finds a man to buy crack from.  He smokes it for the first time in months and doesn’t return home until right before Mandy wakes up.  He shakes in his skin, sweating, until he can finally fall asleep for at least a couple hours.  He awakes to two missed calls from the daycare and stumbles out to his truck.  The girls tell him to “feel better” when they hand off Brian Jr., and he knows he absolutely looks like shit.  He sits in the bathroom when he gets home and slathers on makeup while Brian Jr. plays in the bath.  Mandy doesn’t suspect a thing.

He doesn’t smoke for awhile again after that.  And if he does, it’s before his shift, so he gets it out of his system in time to be home.

Mac still tries to talk to him, but Dennis doesn’t want to hear about the gang or the bar or his stupid, beefcake boyfriend.  His phone becomes a graveyard for Mac’s texts, and he never answers a single one.  But sometimes, early in the morning when he’s just getting to bed, he’ll read through them.

 

Mon, September 4, 8:27 PM

 

den the coolest thing happened to me today

 

den?

 

Tues, September 12, 10:17 AM

 

hey

 

we haven’t talked in awhile

 

i miss you man

 

Sat, September 23, 3:46 AM

 

i ‘m worried about yuo dude

 

i know ur b usy and whatevr and the move has been hard on you but you’ve ne ver just stoppedd talking to me

 

den what the fuck

 

yuore a fu cking asshole

 

fu ck you

Thurs, Oct 5, 1:56 AM

 

so obviously you hate me now or whatever but i hope you’re doing okay. god i really fucking hope you’re still taking ur meds and shit. because i really do worry aobut you. and i know that i had to make you do a lot of shit like take ur meds and eat and see ur psychiatrist.

 

just let me kno ur doing okay man?

 

please

 

Mon, Oct 11, 4:03 AM

 

god i fucking hate you sometimes

 

Fri, Oct 15, 3:23 AM

 

dude come on

 

dee hasn’t even heard from you lately. just let us know youre not fucking dead

  


As Dennis lies down, scrolling through the messages, another one pops up.

 

Today, 2:47 AM

 

my boyfriend told me he loves me

 

Dennis throws his phone across the room and begins clenching his fists so hard that his nails are sure to leave cuts in his palm.  Chest heaving and eyes burning, he holds his breath to stave off what he knows are sobs.  His phone makes another _ping!_ noise, and he takes a hell of a time to get up and cross the room to where his phone lay on the carpet, underneath a chip in the wall.

 

**Mac**

i didn’t say it back. i can’t

 

In a second, Dennis’ emotions do a complete one-eighty.  Mac doesn’t love his boyfriend.  Dennis doesn’t know what the extent of this means, but there’s something about the fact that Mac turned to him.  It feels like fate that he was looking at his phone, that he’s felt so little of anything until this moment.  Dennis grabs his phone from the ground and hurriedly sends a text.

 

Today, 2:55 AM

 

Give me a second. I’ll call you asap

 

He hauls ass outside to his truck and checks to make sure that he’s still got a twelve pack in his backseat.  Without a moment’s consideration, Dennis starts up his truck and drives.  He drives and drives until the houses disappear and the only thing he can see are the frosty wheat fields and the open road.  He hooks a right onto the first gravel road he sees and parks the car.  He hops into the bed of the truck and grabs a bottle before pulling out his phone and calling Mac.  He puts it on speaker and lays it down next to his hip.

“Dennis?”

He swallows a giant gulp of beer and belches.  “I’m here, man.”

“Hey,” Mac says quietly.

“What’s up?” Dennis asks.  He didn’t wear a jacket, and he shivers.  He compensates by taking another long drink of beer.

“Can’t believe you’re talking to me,” Mac says, voice cold.

Dennis winces.  “Yeah.  It’s been - it’s been difficult to say the least.”

Mac sighs heavily on the other end.  Dennis chugs the last of the bottle before opening another.

“I don’t know what to do, Den,” Mac says, and Dennis’ chest tightens at the nickname.  Fourteen hundred miles away, and Mac still has this fucking control over him.  “I haven’t even been out for a year, I don’t - I don’t know how to be in a relationship like this.”

Dennis chuckles.  “Mac, let me be honest - I don’t even know why you’re asking me for relationship advice.  We both know I don’t do ‘love.’  The closest relationship I’ve ever had is - “  He stops himself just in time, a blush flaring up his neck and cheeks.  He clears his throat.  “Anyway.”

Mac laughs awkwardly.  “Yeah - I don’t know why I thought you could help me.  Whatever.  Relationships are overrated.”

Dennis hums.

“Anyway,” Mac says with a deep sigh. “How are things on your end?”

“Fine,” Dennis responds automatically.

Mac huffs.  “Dude, be honest.  You haven’t talked to anyone in like two months.”

Dennis takes another healthy swig.  “It’s hell,” he admits.  “I love Junior, but fuck.  We live in the middle of goddamn nowhere.  I work alone at a twenty-four hour gas station.  It’s stifling.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Mac says softly.  “That sounds rough.”

Dennis finishes his second bottle.  “I want Brian Jr. to have a good father, I do.  I want to be that for him, but Jesus Christ, Mac.  I can’t handle this shit.  It’s too much responsibility.  I’m always at fucking work.  And it’s a shitty ass job.  It would be better if I wasn’t working alone, but really, I guess it doesn’t matter.  If I’m not with Mandy and Brian Jr., I’m always alone.  Nobody here understands me.  I’m going fucking insane.”

“Den - “

“Honestly, Mac.  I’d rather fucking die than spend the next sixteen years here.”  

Filled with a sudden, virile rage, Dennis grabs one of the empty bottles and launches it into the air.  It hits the gravel behind the truck with a satisfying crash.  On the heels of the noise, Dennis grabs the other empty bottle and hurls it with all the force he can dredge up.  Hell, he grabs another bottle, chugs it, and throws that one too.  When he’s finished, he’s breathing hard, and Mac is repeatedly saying his name over the phone.

“Dennis, what are you doing?  Dennis?”

“Sorry,” he breathes, and swipes up his phone.  “Got carried away.”

“You okay, man?”

“Yeah,” Dennis says without thinking about it.  It takes a second for him to realize he’s lying.

“You taking your meds, Den?”

He figures he’s on a roll.  “Yeah, Mac.  I’m taking my meds.”

 

November

 

The snow settles into the Earth.  Dennis grows a beard.  His arms are riddled with burn marks from his lighter; done in between smoking sessions (weed, cigarettes, the occasional pipe of crack) to ease the overwhelming emotions and center his pain in one, tangible, visible spot.  Mandy doesn’t find it weird that Dennis never rolls up the sleeves of his button-ups anymore, not with weather like this.  

The only times Dennis feels whole are when he’s with Brian Jr.  He makes sure he’s sober, or the least fucked-up in these moments, wanting to savor all that he can.  If he didn’t have his son, Dennis thinks he would have definitely gone insane by now.  He relishes in the nights that Junior falls asleep on his chest and in the days that he comes running, shouting, “Daddy!” whenever Dennis picks him up from daycare.  At least this hell gives him those brief moments of tranquility.

Dennis really tries to keep his drinking to a minimum.  He doesn’t want to be drunk around Brian Jr. and he definitely doesn’t want to fuck things up with Mandy, but it happens anyway.  Dennis keeps his bad habits to himself, but in the end he gets what he deserves.

It’s a Tuesday night.  He leaves work early thanks to a coworker who wanted to escape his own hell of a life at home.  He takes with him his usual twelve-pack, but he adds a bottle of vodka as a treat to himself.  He finishes it all within two hours and stumbles home at midnight, hot and dizzy.  Mandy’s up waiting for him.  Dennis can’t read her expression.  Her face is stony.

“Shit,” he slurs under his breath.

“Sit down,” Mandy says curtly.

Dennis listens, fully aware that his kid has completely softened him.  He winces and prepares himself for the string of verbal abuse, but it doesn’t come.  Instead, Mandy settles herself into the couch next to him and places an awkward hand on his knee.  He opens his eyes slightly.

“Dennis,” she starts.

“Are you kicking me out?” he asks.  “Are you taking Brian Jr. away from me?”  His voice isn’t accusatory.  It’s shaky and panicked, filled with desperation.

“No,” Mandy says, furling her eyebrows.  “No, no - Dennis, I’m just - I’m worried about you.”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” he blurts out. 

Mandy sighs and gives him a sad, awkward smile.  “That - that is up for debate.  Either way, I just wanted to ask if - if you’ve ever considered getting a therapist?”

Dennis blinks.  Then laughs quietly to himself.  “I don’t trust them,” he answers honestly.  “I’ve been - basically studying psychology my whole life - I - I keep dossiers on my friends, and - I know all the tricks, Mandy.  Therapists don’t work on me.”

“Okay,” she reasons.  “Have you ever thought about not trying to fight therapy?  Just - letting yourself talk to someone about your problems?”

Dennis doubles over with quiet, breathy laughter.  “Mandy - “ he heaves a deep breath.  “Mandy, let me - let me be honest with you - I’ve - I’ve buried my shit so deep down for forty years.  You’d need a whole extraction team to get it out of me.”  He continues to laugh, but Mandy’s face frowns.  Her eyes look wet, and Dennis panics.  “Mandy - “  He reaches for her, but she pulls her hand back.

“Look, Dennis,” she says, “I want you here.  I really do.  Brian Jr. loves you so much, and I don’t want him to be without his father, but - but I don’t want us to be hurt when you, if - “

Dennis swallows thickly.  “I’m not - I’m not going anywhere, Mandy.”

She nods, presses her lips together.  She gives his leg a gentle pat.  “Will you just think about getting a therapist.  For Junior?”

Dennis doesn’t meet her eyes.  “Yeah.”

.

The next night, Dennis calls Mac from work.  It wasn’t the first afternoon he woke up with the distinct feeling he was more interested in dying than staying alive, but it was definitely the most potent in a long, long time.  And if he’s honest, it’s scaring him shitless.  He keeps picturing his own hands, filled with blood, sometimes coming from a gash in his stomach, sometimes pooling up from running down slashed wrists.  Any time he sees a sharp object, he wants to thrust it through his chest.  While he was driving to work, something inside kept telling him to run his car off the road at ninety miles per hour.  He’s trying to ignore these thoughts, “trying” being the operative word.

Mac answers right away.

“Dennis, I’m so glad you called.”  His voices comes over the line, frantic.  Dennis doesn’t hear this.

“Yeah - Mac.  I, uh - I really need to talk to you, man.  I’m not in a good place - “

“Yeah, yeah, hold on, Dennis - alright?  I can’t hold it in - “

“Mac, listen.  I’ve been really suic - “

“Yeah, alright, but Dennis - “

Something lodges itself in Dennis’ throat.  He swallows.  It’s fine.  “Okay, okay, Mac.  What’s going on, man?”

Mac’s breath hitches.  “I broke up with my boyfriend.”

It takes a second for Dennis to process the information, and when he does, it still doesn’t elicit much of a response.  He’s too busy actively trying to ignore the urge to smash his face against the counter until it’s a bloody pulp.

“I’m so . . sorry . . Mac,” he stutters, sounding completely insincere.  He digs his palm into his eye for a second, stifling a groan.

“Whatever, it’s fine,” Mac says, but his voice indicates that it is absolutely not fine.  He sounds bitter and angry.  “It was stupid.  It was a stupid reason to break up, so whatever.  It’s done.  It’s over.”

“Do you  - wanna talk about it?” Dennis asks awkwardly.  “I mean - you can let it out, bro to bro.”  Better.

Mac sighs heavily.  “He was just - he was jealous, really.  Like insanely jealous.  Stupid jealous.  He said I - that I talked about you too much.”

A sudden heat climbs up Dennis’ neck.  “Mac - “

“Which is totally dumb, right, Dennis?” Mac continues.  “Like, come on.  You’re my best friend, and like - we’ve never been this far apart for so long.  I think I should be allowed to talk about you.  Whatever.  He was an idiot.”

Dennis bites down at the inside of his cheek.  His hand itches for his lighter.  A twinge of pain goes through his wrists.

“Yeah,” he says, voice oddly croaky.  “He sounds like an idiot.”

“Glad he’s not my boyfriend anymore,” Mac grumbles, but the sound of his voice betrays him.  There’s an uncomfortable moment of silence before Mac coughs and says, “Any - anyway, what did you want to talk about?”

Dennis doesn’t answer for a moment.  He feels weird.  He feels shaky, unstable.  There’s a gaping hole in his chest and he kind of wants to vomit.  Another image of bloody hands flashes in his brain.  “N - nothing, Mac,” he chokes out.  “Nevermind.”  He hangs up without another thought and stumbles back against the rack of cigarettes behind him.  

He feels like he can’t breathe.  His eyes move back and forth, looking around him.  As if not really there, Dennis watches as his hand snakes out in front of him, searching until it finds the box cutter underneath the front counter, thrown on the top shelf.  His fingers wrap around it.  He moves without thinking about it, tracing a line up his thigh.  His jeans split open, and blood runs down his leg.  Dennis finishes his shift with bloodied jeans and a thigh that feels like it’s on fire.  

Hours later, he limps inside Mandy’s house to his guest room.  He sheds his jeans and buries them in the bathroom garbage underneath makeup wipes and wads of toilet paper.  Mandy either never finds them or decides not to say anything about it.

 

December

 

They say people are loneliest around the holidays.  Dennis wishes he would have heeded their warning, whoever they are.  Christmas already pisses him off; it’s no secret.  Frank used to make his and Dee’s lives hell most especially during this time of year, and it’s left a permanent bitter taste in his mouth.  It doesn’t help that this is his first Christmas away from the gang.  Even if he went through Christmas PTSD every year, at least he had Dee, who shared in the horrible memories; Charlie, who was always so intuitive and knew how to help Dennis without asking; and Mac, who could always cure any dregs of loneliness that haunted Dennis.  Sure, this year he has Brian Jr. and Mandy, but despite Junior being his son and Mandy being his baby mama, the feeling that he doesn’t belong with them overwhelms him.

Despite living in her home for six months, Dennis has still never met Mandy’s family.  She comes from a pretty cookie-cutter household.  Her one night stand with Dennis, fueled by a surge of rebellion and a taste for curiosity was not met with excitement or happiness.  Her parents, younger sister, and older brother undoubtedly hated Dennis when Brian Jr. was born.  He doesn’t know how much, if at all, they’ve softened on that front since Dennis dedicated himself to being a good father.

So naturally, Dennis smokes a giant blunt before he leaves to spend Christmas Day at Mandy’s parents’ house.  Mandy definitely notices, but she must decide that Christmas is not the time to pick a fight with him over his self-medicating habits because she doesn’t say anything, just shoots him a judgmental look.  He pretends not to notice.

Dennis is practically crawling out of his skin when they step through the door, Brian Jr. on his hip.  Mandy sets down the gifts and hugs each and every member of her family.  Dennis is saved from physical contact by everyone channeling their attention to Brian Jr.  For the most part, everyone starts the day at least civil toward Dennis.  Mandy’s sister even lays a hand on his shoulder and greets him with a smile.  He can’t tell if Mandy’s brother clapping him on the back is friendly or threatening.  Dennis winces out a smile.

Shortly after arriving, when Brian Jr. has ditched his dad and is busy socializing with his cousins, Mandy brings him a glass of wine.  “Figured you could use some,” she says with a knowing grin.

He accepts it with greedy fingers.  “Thank you,” he says.

“Don’t worry about my family,” she continues as he downs half the glass.  “We’re all happy you’re here.  Especially Junior.”

Dennis nods to himself.  That’s all that matters.  That Junior has a good Christmas.  It doesn’t matter that there’s a hollow ache in his chest and all he can think about is the gang living it up back home.  He can push the dark thoughts away.  He can focus on being here, with his son.  All that matters is Junior is happy.

For the rest of the afternoon, Dennis hangs on the fringes, not letting himself get too roped into conversation and downing glass after glass of wine to stay calm.  Contrary to the usual, Dennis does not wish to talk about himself, not when he’s keenly aware that he’s nothing but a disappointment to these people.  He used to be a semi-successful owner of a dive bar in Philadelphia, living life however he wanted alongside his friends.  Now he’s a cashier at a gas station, barely raking in enough money to help support the son he never planned to have.  Not to even mention the plethora of mental instability that currently plagues him, and the amount of self-medicating it takes to keep him from completely losing it.  Yeah, Dennis fully plans to keep his mouth shut today.

Everything is fine until after dinner, when everyone starts to open presents.  Dennis already has his own qualms about Christmas presents, and although he had an enjoyable time watching Brian Jr. open the gifts he and Mandy got him this morning, he’s still on edge.  It doesn’t help that Junior is tired and clinging onto his dad.

Shit hits the fan as soon as Brian Jr. watches his cousin open a Hot Wheels racetrack.  He’s immediately taken by it, and Dennis has to bring his attention back to the present in front of him.  Junior eagerly rips it open, but when he sees a set of Play-Doh, he bursts into tears.

“I want cars, I want cars,” he sobs.

Dennis freezes, completely unsure what to do.

“Junior,” he starts.  “Junior, you got your own present.”

“I don’t want this,” Junior responds, and he kicks the half-unwrapped box of Play-Doh.  

In an instant, Dennis is pissed.  “Junior, tell your grandparents ‘thank you,’” he snaps, voice harsh.  Brian Jr. only cries and screams harder.  “Goddamnit, Junior,” he yells.  

He grabs Brian Jr. by the waist and hoists him up.  Kicking and screaming, Dennis drags him into the kitchen, where he deposits Brian Jr. into a chair.  Junior pounds his fists on the seat next to him, and Dennis gets down onto his knees.

“Listen, Junior,” he hisses.  “I never got anything for Christmas.  Not a goddamn thing.  You’re lucky your family gives a shit enough to get you presents, you ungrateful bastard.  Now, you’ll appreciate that stupid Play-Doh and stop crying.  Junior, do you hear me?”

Brian Jr. looks up, quiet.  He still has tears in his eyes, but he’s silent.  He looks stunned as he stares up at Dennis.  His eyes are wide and his arms are up, holding himself.  He looks scared.  Immediately, all the blood drains from his face as he realizes what he’s just done.  He spit his anger out at his own kid.  His kid who is three years old and doesn’t understand the etiquette of receiving presents.  Dennis stands up slowly and takes a step back.  Junior cowers and begins crying again.

“Dennis?”

He looks to see Mandy in the doorway.

“Oh my god,” he breathes.  “Oh my god - what’s wrong with me?”  He stalks past her, past her family, and races outside into the cold.  He collapses on the snow-covered sidewalk and sobs.  He’s not sure how much time passes, but eventually, someone comes and crouches down next to him.

“Hey, hey - “

It’s Mandy, voice soft.

Dennis sniffs, trying desperately to get ahold of himself.  “I sounded just like my father,” he chokes.  “I didn’t want to be him.  I didn’t want to be him.”

“Dennis - “

“I’ve fucked him up.  I’ve fucked our kid up.”

“Den - “

“He hates me.  He hates me, Mandy.  And he should.  I’m just like Frank.  Fuck.  I’m just like Frank.”

He dissolves again, but Mandy grabs his face firmly in her hands.

“Hey,” she says pointedly.  “You have not fucked up Brian Jr.  He’s fine.  He’s over it.  Caleb offered him a car and they’re both playing with the racetrack.  That being said - yeah, you were harsh, but he’s fine, Dennis.  Are you?”

He breathes.  Swallows hard.  “Yeah. Yeah,” he says, nodding.  “I’m okay.”

They head inside and finish Christmas in peace, but before the night is over, when he’s lounging on the couch with his eyes closed and Junior sleeping on his chest, he catches a conversation between Mandy and her sister.

“Mandy, is - is Dennis, you know - stable?”

There’s a beat.  “He’s sensitive,” she answers simply.

“Well, that was some display of mood swings.”

Another short moment of silence.

“He - he -” Mandy sighs.  “Do you know of any good therapists?  I am worried for us if I’m honest.  I wasn’t expecting to deal with this sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?”

“He, uh - he told me awhile ago that he was on medication for, um - Borderline Personality Disorder, but he stopped taking it.  I’ve been doing some research, and he - he needs something or he’s just going to get worse.”

 

January

 

The rush of the holidays slow down, the days are too short, and Dennis finds himself stuck frozen in the hellscape.  Christmas Day hangs over him like a persistent storm cloud.  Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the look on Brian Jr.’s face.  Any time it’s quiet he hears Mandy throwing him under the bus.  Everything is on a constant loop that he can’t escape.

Halfway through January, he hits a wall.

He takes his two days off, and he doesn’t move.  He holes himself up in his room with six bottles of hard alcohol and drinks them one after the other.  Mandy finds him on night two sitting on the floor of the shower, completely naked and sobbing.  She picks him up and carries him to bed where he hiccups himself into silence.

“I put Junior to bed,” Mandy says flatly.  “He was asking for you.”

Dennis looks up at her slowly, hesitant.

“What is going on, Dennis?”

He hiccups.  “I - I feel so much.  Everything.  Everything is too much.”

Mandy sighs and it’s loud; it grates against Dennis’ ears.  “Something needs to change, Dennis.  You need to go to therapy.  You need to find medication that works.  This isn’t okay.”

Dennis swallows hard.  The air feels too heavy, like it’s pressing down on him.  “N - no,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut.  “I can’t do that.  I just - I need - “

“You need to get help,” Mandy presses.  “That’s non-negotiable.”

“You can’t make me,” Dennis grumbles.  He feels like he might be spinning, but he knows he’s lying down flat on his bed.

“Dennis,” Mandy says, stern.  “You asked me back in November if I was going to kick you out.  I said no, but asked you to consider getting a therapist.  Dennis, if you don’t get help, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.  Get your own apartment.”

Dennis begins to panic.  He’s struck with the urge to rip his own skin off.  “What about Junior?”

Mandy shrugs.  “We’ll see.”  

She turns and leaves without another word.  Dennis fights the sudden desire to break a bottle and use one of the shards to slit his wrists.  Instead, he buries his face in his pillow and wills himself to fall asleep.  Fuck consciousness.

.

Dennis starts smoking crack regularly again.

His relationship with Brian Jr. is the only thing keeping him alive at this point, and as per usual, he has to destroy it.  He’s never let himself have anything.  Of course, he used to blame the gang for all his problems, but they were there long before Dennis met Mac and Charlie, and now they’ve followed him to North Dakota.  He’s been self-destructive since birth.

Dennis spends his days in a haze, constantly shaking and sweating.  He loses fifteen pounds in two weeks.  But it’s nothing compared to the pain he feels when he’s sober.  His fragile ego has been shattered, and he can’t pick up the pieces and put them back together.  All of the delusions of grandeur that propelled him to leave Philly have been destroyed.  Any hope that he could be anything other than Frank’s son is gone.  And if he’s going to be a fuckup once again, he might as well go all the way.

He doesn’t even try to be careful about it.  He lights up as soon as he gets to work and takes several breaks throughout the night to go back to his car and get another fix.  The beard makes a comeback and he leaves it unkempt.  Shedding those fifteen pounds off his already malnourished body makes him look like a skeleton.  Any time he catches a glance in the mirror, he grimaces; he looks fucking dead.

He starts to lose chunks of his memory.  He finds himself waking up in places he has no recollection of entering.  He thinks he possibly could have had a stroke but gets up and keeps going about his day.  It isn’t until a babysitting fiasco that Mandy keeps her promise.

He’s supposed to be watching Brian Jr. for just an hour tops while Mandy runs to the grocery store for a few things.   When Mandy comes home, Dennis is passed out on the floor and Brian Jr. is sitting outside in the snow with nothing but his flimsy pajamas and worn socks on.

Mandy screams at him, screams like Dennis has never heard her scream before.

“You’re lucky he didn’t even get frostbite, Dennis!  He could’ve gotten hypothermia!  He could have died!”

Dennis thinks Mandy is overreacting in the moment, but when his latest hit wears off, he realizes the severity of the situation and begins sobbing.  The dark thoughts hit him full force.  He’s lucky Mandy’s keeping watch over him.

“You’re right,” he breathes.  “You’re absolutely right - about everything.  Let’s - let’s refill my meds.”

 

February

 

He’s serious about it at first; he even takes them for the first few days, but then it starts to hit him.  The meds aren’t going to help.  They didn’t help before.  He was still a mess, he was still angry all the time, he was still an alcoholic.  And then he was depressed.  He gave up his unhealthy lifestyle as best he could and came to North Dakota, and he was depressed.

Crack is off the table.  Not unless he wants to lose custody of Brian Jr.  Dennis is left hanging by a thread.  He chain smokes cigarettes and drinks himself to sleep every night, hoping that eventually he’ll be drinking himself to death.  

The days and nights start to blur into a mess of constant misery.  Dennis tries to will himself to feel something positive.  He looks at Brian Jr., who has his smile, but whenever Junior cracks a wide, toothy grin, something snaps a little farther inside Dennis.  He starts to think a little too much.  He begins to wonder whether it truly is better for Brian Jr. to be raised by his father - his father who is an alcoholic, psychotic, raging mess.  Most of the time Dennis wishes Mandy had never brought Brian Jr. to Philly.  If Dennis had never held his son in his arms and fallen in love, they all would probably be better off.

Mandy starts to count his pills, so Dennis has to take one out every day and place them in a baggie that he keeps hidden in his underwear drawer.  Every few days she brings up therapy, and every few days, Dennis resists.  He argues that the meds should be enough, ignoring the fact that he’s not even taking them.  Either way, it doesn’t matter.  He’s starting to lean toward a more permanent solution to his problems these days.

On a particularly bad night, Dennis tries to reach out to Mac.  It’s not terribly late, so he’s actually quite surprised when Mac doesn’t answer his phone.  Sure, they haven’t talked recently, but it’s Mac.  Mac is always there when Dennis needs him.  He’s like a goddamn dog.  Dennis calls again, but this time it doesn’t even ring.  It goes straight to voicemail.  Did Mac decline his call?

Dennis sends out a text, trying not to panic.

 

Today, 12:34 AM

 

Mac, answer your goddamn phone.

 

He waits five minutes, calls, gets an immediate voicemail again.

 

Mac, seriously.

 

Mac.

 

MAC.

 

Dennis is panicking now.  Something is twisting up inside him.  He feels like a lit match, burning down to nothing.  Every breath is painful.  His chest is screaming.  He squeezes his phone tightly in his hand for a long moment before sending his next text.

 

911 Dude.

 

Mac?

 

911 911 911 911

 

**(!)** Mac, i dont know what to do i’m losing it

 

**(!)** Mac, i don’t want to live anymore

 

**(!)** Mac, i’m seriously so fucking suicidal. I haven’t wanted to kill myself this badly in years tell me what to do i don’t know what to do man please i can’t take it i can’t take it anymore i can’t do this i cant be a father to brian jr i can’t be anything to mandy i can’t come home because you all moved on without me i can’t do anything   
**Not Sent**

 

Dennis throws his phone as hard as he can across the room.  His emotions are suffocating him.  He shoves his face into his pillow and screams until his throat aches.  Involuntarily, he curls in on himself and cries silently until he finally, finally falls asleep. 

In the morning, he has one text from Mac.

 

**Mac**

hey dude sorry. i went home with this really hot guy last night and my phone died. what’s up? you okay?

 

Okay?  Of course he’s not okay.  Mac is supposed to be there for him.  Mac shouldn’t be off fucking guys when Dennis is in desperate need of someone to calm him down.  Especially when all he wants to do is a blast a bullet through his own goddamn brain.  Mac should be more concerned.  What happened to the Mac who called the cops when Dennis didn’t talk to him for an hour?  Dennis wants that Mac back.  But that Mac is gone, and this new Mac doesn’t give a shit about a 911 text from his old best friend.

Dennis rolls over, closing his eyes and wondering where he could go to buy an unregistered gun.

.

Dennis starts missing work.

It’s easy to call in the first time.  Nobody asks questions.  He calls in the next day; they assume he’s just really sick.  And maybe he is.  He goes to the rest of his shifts that week, but his scheduled days off don’t feel like enough.  He floats through them, doesn’t really recover from the exertion of the days he did work.  He’s tired.  He’s so goddamn tired and he just can’t get his body to move.

His manager calls him the day of his third no-call, no-show.  He ignores it.

He stays up while Brian Jr. and Mandy sleep.  Most of the time he just lays on his bed and stares at the popcorn ceiling or a stain on the wall.  Sometimes he sneaks outside to smoke cigarettes or weed.  Sometimes he drags himself into a sitting position to drink bottle after bottle of wine or vodka or whiskey.  It doesn’t matter, really.  All alcohol is the same to him now - a burning feeling in his throat and the numbness that doesn’t quite fill the hole in his chest.

The next time Dennis goes into work, his manager is waiting.  His manager screams at him, but Dennis doesn’t even flinch.  He’s so empty at this point that nothing feels like it matters.  When it’s over, he just goes back to doing his job.  He knows his manager threatened to fire him, knows that he’s entirely serious about it, but Dennis just can’t find it within himself to care.

Unfortunately for him, Mandy does care.

As it turns it out, after their non-conversation, Dennis’ manager gave her a call - some bullshit about how he was actually scared by Dennis’ earlier reaction and he wanted to make sure that a) Dennis wasn’t a secret serial killer or b) Dennis wasn’t going to have a complete breakdown.  Ironic, really.  He arrives home and Mandy’s ready.  He walks through the door to find the kitchen light on.  She’s sitting at the table drinking scotch, and Dennis knows he’s in trouble.

“Your manager called,” she says as he stands, dumbfounded in the doorway.

“What - uh, what did he say?” Dennis asks without moving.

“You haven’t been going in.”

It’s not a question.  She isn’t looking for confirmation, so Dennis doesn’t respond.  He stands, still unmoving, and she finishes of her glass of scotch.  Dennis holds his breath.  The glass hits the table and Mandy looks up, only a small bit of softness visible in her eyes.

“I’m done,” she says.

Dennis doesn’t need further explanation.  Immediately, the room begins spinning and he feels like his heart is bleeding out into his ribs.  He’s struck with an immense urge to break every bone in his body.  Mandy keeps talking, but he’s slipping.

“I don’t want to do this, Dennis, but I feel like I don’t have a choice here.  Nothing’s going to change unless I stay true to my word, so - I want you to move out, Dennis.  You can spend the night tonight, but in the morning, I want you gone.  And I want you to see a therapist. Otherwise - otherwise I’m not going to let you see Brian Jr. anymore.  He deserves a dad who’s there for him, not a dad who spends half his time drinking and getting high.  He notices more than you think.”

If Dennis felt empty before, he feels like he’s being completely burned up now, the flame starting from his chest, charring him from the inside out.  He can’t tell if Mandy’s still talking to him or if her words are just repeating over and over in his head, not clear enough to make sense.  He opens his mouth to say something, but he can’t string a single phrase together.  He looks out, tries to meet Mandy’s eyes, but he can’t focus his gaze.  He doesn’t feel real.  Nothing feels real.

Eventually, Mandy leaves the room with a heavy sigh.  Dennis stands there long after she’s gone.  The sound of Brian Jr. crying is the only thing that pulls him back, but short after, Mandy’s footsteps echo.  He drags himself back to his room.

He feels like a robot.  He’s functioning on automatic as he does his normal routine.  He slips into pajamas, heads to the bathroom, brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face, returns to his bed.  As he lowers himself down, he swipes his phone from the nightstand and opens it.  As per usual, he looks at the texts he hasn’t answered from Mac and Dee.  There are a couple from Charlie.  Both Mac and Dee have left missed calls as well. 

Dennis scans his page of messages before turning his phone off.

 

**Dee** 8:17 PM

Dude. answer me.

 

**Charlie** 6:03 PM

Dee wurreed abt u. Wats up man?

 

**Mandy**    Yesterday

Don’t forget to pick Junior up early today!

 

**Pimply Dude From Work**    Yesterday

Yo dude Greg’s pissed you better get ...

 

**Mac**    Friday

hey dude sorry. i went home with this …

 

Crack Guy   2/06/18

Meet behind barber shop 1:30

 

Frank   1/23/18

?????????

 

He doesn’t plan it out.  It just sort of happens.  He snaps.  The emptiness fades and he’s suddenly agonized by the intense feelings of hopelessness, wishing he could just fucking die.  A  second later, he’s realizing that he has almost a full month’s prescription of lithium.  He’s pulling the baggie from his underwear drawer and he’s walking to the bathroom and he’s shoving them down his throat.  He’s on the floor, vomiting blood, knowing that he’s going to die, and he’s never felt more peaceful in his life.  As his eyes slip shut and he starts to lose feeling in his extremities, he thinks of Mac and hopes that he’ll be happy without Dennis to drag him down.

 

.

PART II

.

February

(continued)

 

He doesn’t expect to wake up.  In fact, when he does, it feels more like a dream than anything else.  He definitely doesn’t expect Mac to be there, in North Dakota.  Pain seeps through the edges and he registers that this isn’t a dream.  This is reality, and he’s so confused.  The last thing he remembers is -

And then he’s white hot with rage.  Rage at the universe for letting him survive.  Rage at Mandy, who probably found him and brought him to the hospital.  Rage at Mac who’s just sitting there, letting him get better.  He was supposed to die.  He was supposed to fucking die.

The next thing he registers is that he’s waking up for a second a time.  Mac is still there, but it’s daytime now.  The blood in his veins makes him feel empty.  Mac asks him how he feels and he’s honest.  He doesn’t feel anything.  He turns over and wills himself to sleep again.  Unconsciousness will have to suffice if he can’t have death.

Having the gang around is weird.  Under the circumstances it’s also incredibly embarrassing.  No one has fucked up as bad as he has.  He feels scared for brief moments sometimes.  When they all thought Dee was going to kill herself, Mac and Charlie humiliated her.  Dennis really did try to kill himself, with no way out, and he’s humiliated enough as it is.  He can’t even begin to imagine what they all think of him now.  He doesn’t necessarily want to.

However, as the suicide watch continues, none of them seem suspicious.  None of them do anything really.  They can’t even talk to him, let alone plan out ways to ruin his life further.  He’s taken things too far, farther than anyone else ever did.

Sometimes, he notices Dee crying.  He never says anything.  Frank talks to himself, and it can only remind Dennis of the time Charlie faked his death.  Dennis blanches at the thought of Frank caring that much about him dying.  Charlie doesn’t say much of anything, but he does try to ease Dennis’ anxiety.  He’s the best at distracting Dennis with stories and anecdotes.  Whenever Dennis needs anything, like water or another blanket, he’s the first to get up.  Mac doesn’t leave.  Mac is completely beside himself, but Dennis refuses to acknowledge it.

It’s easier at first for Dennis to be bitter.  It makes sense.  He’s mad that he’s here, mad that he’s alive and failed to kill himself.  He’s mad that he’s at the mercy of everyone else, that they’re planning out his care without his input because he can’t be trusted to keep his own best interests in his mind.  He’s mad that he has been and still is nothing but fucking helpless.  It’s easy to go along with things grudgingly, focusing on the anger and directing it at people like he always does.  It’s not easy to confront any other feelings - the guilt, the shame, the sadness, the depression, the complete fucking hopelessness, the self-hate, the suicidality that pulsates with every beat of his heart.  The only thing that makes him break is Mandy.

Mac asks if he’s okay to see her, and he knows he at least owes her that.  She was the one that found him after all - the father of her son unconscious and dying on the bathroom floor, covered in his own blood and vomit.  Dennis has gone through a lot of shit, but nothing like that.

When she steps into the room, so timid, so scared, eyes bloodshot and puffy, Dennis cracks.  He feels the tears well up in his eyes and he aches.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.  “I’m so sorry.”  

It’s probably the only time he’s ever meant it.  He keeps going, keeps saying it, completely and utterly dissolves as she crosses the room to grab him and hold him in her arms.  And like the saint she is, she comforts him.  She strokes his arm and she soothes him.

“You’re gonna go back with your friends, and you’re gonna be happy, okay?  You’re gonna get better, and Brian and I will come when we can.  It’s gonna be okay, Dennis.”

For just a moment, Dennis feels like he might die of shame.  And maybe she is just letting him go to shun some of the responsibility of taking care of him, but she’s also letting him go to let him be happy, which is downright insane to him.  He could never be that selfless in his life.

“Is Brian Jr. okay?” he whispers.

Mandy lets out a small noise between a laugh and a sob.  “He’s fine.  He’s with my parents.”

“He didn’t see anything?”

“No.  Nothing.”

“Good.”

“He just misses you.”

Dennis doesn’t respond.

.

Dennis takes longer to recover than anyone anticipates.  It’s nearly two weeks before he’s discharged, and before he can leave, he has to sit down with Mandy and Mac to arrange his safety plan.  He feels a lot of things about being released into Mac’s ‘custody’, but mostly anger and humiliation.  He tries really hard not to have a meltdown but it’s almost impossible.   Both Mandy and Mac have to lay a hand on him before he calms down.

The first thing he has to do is commit to safety.  No more trying to kill himself.  Dennis can’t confidently make that kind of promise, so he does what he does best and lies his ass off, tells his doctor that he’s ready to move on and live his life.

The next thing he has to promise to do is take his new prescription, and again, he lies his ass off.  It continues like this, with his doctor telling him things he needs to agree to do before they can just let him walk out of the hospital.  He says he’ll do shit like see a therapist and a psychiatrist and stop drinking and not have unprotected sex and not engage in self-injurious behavior and not do drugs, including crack, and of course he says he will.  Once they release him and Mac hauls his ass back to Philly, it really isn’t going to matter if he keeps his promises or not.

Either way, Mac seems absurdly earnest about keeping his end of the bargain as Dennis’ caretaker.  He even asks questions and writes down advice.  Dennis watches him share several soft glances with Mandy and he wants to barf.  He crosses his arms and sinks lower into his seat with each passing moment.

.

Saying goodbye to Brian Jr. and Mandy is painful.  Not just because he’s going to miss them, but because he knows he failed them.  The only thing that he ever really cared about in a long time was being a good father, and he failed miserably.  He knows that Brian Jr. didn’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean he won’t find out when he’s older, or that he understands why his dad has to leave him now.

All three of them cry.  Brian Jr. first, then Mandy, then Dennis.  He places his hands on either side of Junior’s face and presses a watery kiss to his son’s forehead.

“I’ll see you soon, bud,” he says.

He gives Mandy a pained smile before turning and climbing into the taxi that will take him and the gang to the airport.  As they drive away, Mac surreptitiously grabs Dennis’ hand and holds it tight.  Dennis is grateful for the outlet, and squeezes back.  If anyone else notices, they don’t say anything.

.

Dennis doesn’t feel like he’s going home, not really.

The plane ride is uneventful.  He tries to sleep, but with his body still raging against its recent face-off with death, it’s hard.  His insides hurt, and the nausea he feels is violent.  Mac feeds him a couple crackers just to keep him calm.  He keeps one hand on the barf bag just in case.

He falls asleep in the cab on the way to their apartment, head resting against the window.  Mac has to gently shake him awake when they roll up to the building.  He follows Mac upstairs to the apartment that looks like he never left it.  It doesn’t even look like Mac has been living in it.  Maybe he hasn’t, if he’s going home with hot guys every night.  Dennis sighs and collapses onto the couch, craving a nap he never has to wake up from.

That night, after Mac forces food into him, he and Dennis share a bed.  Dennis entertains the idea that they’ll set up Mac’s old room eventually, even though it’s likely that’ll never happen.  He doesn’t really care anymore.  He doesn’t care about a lot of things.

In the morning, Dennis feels awful, both physically and mentally.  Even if he wanted to get out of bed, he doesn’t know that he’d be able to.  So he doesn’t.  He stays in bed.  And he doesn’t get out.  For days.  

Over time, after weeks, it dawns on Dennis that there’s a reason he isn’t getting out of bed, and it’s not because he’s recovering from an overdose.  His body heals.  He physically gets better.  But that’s it.  Mandy wasn’t the only one who thought Dennis would be happier back in Philly, but it’s not happening.  Dennis recognizes everything around him, but none of it feels real.  Instead, he feels like he’s living in a waking nightmare, everything just strange enough to unnerve him.

 

March

 

He agrees to start taking his meds again.  His instinct overtakes him initially, and he fights Mac, but after day after day of continuous breakdowns, he caves.  He’s tired.  His emotions have beat him down and there’s nothing left to do except dull them.  

Dennis waits for them to work, but in the meantime, he can’t bring himself to do anything else.  Not only is he migrating between intense emotions and a complete lack of them, but he finds himself victim to debilitating anxiety.  There are so many things that could go wrong.  He’s hit rock bottom with no clear way out.  And honestly, by this point, rock bottom has become familiar and almost safe.  He’s starting to like rock bottom, prefer it even.

In all honesty, he should have anticipated that eventually the gang would intervene, but the naive part of him hoped that everyone except Mac (who was forced to interact with him) would leave him alone.  But after a month of him being home and not leaving the apartment, they bring themselves to him.  He fights it, of course, but when they ask him to do normal stuff, like watch a classic movie, he gives in.  All this time, all he wanted was to turn back time and have their old dynamic back.

So he leaves his room and Mac makes him hot chocolate and watches a movie with the gang, and then another, and something blossoms in his chest.  It feels both good and bad.  Good, because he’s with his friends again.  Dee executes the Big Sister Mode he pretends to hate and Charlie makes him laugh like he hasn’t laughed in almost a year and everything feels okay.

It’s the little things that get to him.  Like when Charlie takes about something that happened with Artemis a few months back.  Or when everybody recounts something Mac did while drunk that involved their old friend Rex.  Or how nobody talks about the Waitress because Charlie stopped stalking her after Dennis left.  Or how Dee has a recurring gig at a competing bar because although she’s been more successful at stand-up, the guys don’t want her becoming the face of their bar - and the fact that she doesn’t care anyway.

Dennis thinks everyone was a lot happier without him.  They’d figured shit out, and the only reason Dennis is back in the mix is because he tried to off himself.  They pity him.  Once the leader, he’s now their weakest link, hanging on because he literally has no other option.  Dennis crawls back into bed that night feeling once again like he never wants to leave it.  

.

Mandy has been calling regularly; at least once a week since Dennis left North Dakota.  Dennis just hasn’t been able to answer.  Be it the depression, the anxiety, overwhelming self-loathing and guilt - you name it.  He’s found it even harder to answer when Mac doesn’t let Dennis out of his sight.  So on the day that Mac leaves the apartment for the first time without him to get groceries, Dennis calls her back.  His heart settles in his throat as he waits for her to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” he says, quiet.  “It’s Dennis.”

“I know.”

He squeezes his eyes shut tight.  “I just - just wanted to let you know that I’m okay.”

“Thank you,” she says.  She sounds sincere, but the awkwardness of the conversation cancels out anything.  Dennis sighs heavily.

“I’m gonna cut through the bullshit,” he says.  He pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers.  “I know it was a dick move to not answer your calls or talk to you at all until now, I just - I couldn’t bring myself to do it, you know?”

“It’s okay,” Mandy says softly.  “I wasn’t - I wasn’t entirely expecting you to answer right away.”

“I’m taking my meds again,” he tells her.  “I can’t tell if they’re working yet, but - yeah.”

“That’s good,” Mandy says, and she huffs a small laugh.  “I’m glad, Dennis.”

He clears his throat.  “Um - how - how’s Brian Jr. doing?”

“He’s good,” Mandy says.  “He’s made a new friend at preschool.  I’m hoping it doesn’t get too serious,” she says, and Dennis can hear her smile.  “I want him to be able to bounce back when we move.”

Dennis doesn’t say anything.  He still can’t wrap it around his head that Mandy is uprooting her life for him.  Of course, it’s probably more for Junior than anything.  Neither of them want Brian Jr. to grow up confused and heartbroken because his dad spent less than a year with him before leaving him again at age three.

“He misses you.”

Dennis swallows hard.  “What have you told him?  Where does he think I am?”

“I told him you had to go spend time with your own family.  I told him you were sick and it was the only thing that would make you better.”

Dennis scoffs.  “What does he think about that?”

“He can only understand so much, you know?  But I don’t think he’s as upset now as he was when you first left.  I haven’t told him that we’re moving, but I remind him that we’ll be seeing you soon.  He smiles when I tell him.”

Dennis does too.  “I miss you guys,” he says, and it comes out a whisper.

“Don’t miss us too much,” Mandy replies, lighthearted.

He heaves a deep breath, suddenly overwhelmed by sadness.  He feels his eyes go hot and he swallows again.  “Mandy,” he breathes.  “I’m so fucking sorry you had to find me.”

Dennis hears her breath hitch over the phone.

“Don’t, Dennis,” she says, firmly.  “Just get better, okay?  That’s all you have to do.”

“Okay.”

.

On a day that Mac has obligations for the bar, Dee is sent to babysit Dennis.  He throws a fit before accepting his fate and burying himself under the covers.  He falls back asleep for a solid four more hours, waking up around two in the afternoon.  He finds Dee out in the living room, watching a cooking show.  Blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he drops down onto the couch next to her.

“Oh, you’re finally up,” she remarks, sarcastic.

“Fuck off,” Dennis shoots back.

She swipes something off the coffee table, and it takes Dennis a second to recognize his pill bottle.  Dee pours two pills into her hand before screwing the cap back on.  She trades the bottle for a glass of water and offers both it and the pills to Dennis.

“Mac told me to make you take these as soon as you got up.”

Dennis sighs as he accepts the pills.  Grumbling, he throws them back with a gulp of water.

“You hungry?” Dee asks

Dennis shakes his head.

“Okay, but you have to eat before Mac gets home or he’ll freak,” Dee says as she pulls her legs underneath herself.  “I was thinking about ordering a pizza.”  She glances at him carefully, like she doesn’t actually want to see what he looks like.

He pulls the blanket tighter around himself.  “Whatever,” he mutters.

They lapse into silence for at least ten minutes before Dee breaks the tension.

“Hey - I’m proud of you, bro.”

Dennis looks over at her, affronted.  “What?  Why?” he asks, disbelieving.

Dee makes a vague hand motion at his pill bottle.  “That you’re taking your meds and shit.”

Dennis scoffs.  “Shut up, Dee.”

Dee shrugs.  “It’s more than I’ve ever done.  Mac says you haven’t been drinking either, which - how the fuck, first of all.”

“Yeah, it’s not my choice.  Mac’s like a fucking hawk.”

Dee goes quiet for a moment.  She traces circles with her index finger on the arm of the couch.  “I’m glad you’re not dead, Dennis.”

Dennis rolls his eyes so hard he goes dizzy.  “Thanks, Dee.”

“I mean it!” Dee says, and she sniffs.  Horrified, Dennis realizes she’s crying.

“Oh, god.  Dee - don’t - ,” he stutters.

“Fuck off,” she says, swatting at him.  “You scared the shit out of me.  I’m allowed to cry.”

“Don’t do it in front of me,” he says.  His chest feels oddly tight, and he clings onto the feelings of irritation.  If he doesn’t, he might start crying too.

“I thought you were going to leave me all alone with Frank and Charlie and fucking Mac.”

Dennis keeps his eyes straight ahead, refusing to look at her.  “I did.”

“I meant permanently, you idiot,” she huffs.  “We’ve literally never been apart before this, Dennis.  And I know I pretty much never acknowledge the fact, but you’re my twin brother, and I do love you.  I’m just usually too annoyed and angry at you to, you know, feel it.”

She laughs, and Dennis smirks.

“I’ve never seen you this sappy,” he quips.

“Yeah, well.  You almost fucking died, so.”

“Yeah.  Unfortunately, I didn’t.”

“Shut up, Dennis,” she snaps.  “Look, when I was suicidally depressed, you - you were the only who actually tried to help in your own fucked up way, and I - I appreciated it.  I’m not going to try to hook you up with any guys - except maybe Mac, because Christ - “

“What?!”

“ - but, if you need anything else from me that isn’t completely absurd or degrading, then I’m here.  I don’t - I don’t want to see you actually kill yourself, Den.  I’ve - I’ve been there.  It sucks.”

Dennis takes a deep breath.  “I’m gonna ignore whatever you’re implying about Mac and just cordially thank you.  So thanks, Sis.  I’ll try not to swallow another bottle of lithium all at once.”

Dee winces.  “Yeah - please don’t.”

 

April

 

Somewhere deep, deep, deep down Dennis knows that Mac is just doing what he’s supposed to do.  Somewhere.  And yet, on the surface, Dennis is angry.  He’s infuriated.  He’s compromised on so many things, and he’s about to reach his breaking point.  He went home to Philly, under Mac’s care.  He’s taking his meds.  He doesn’t drink.  He’s doing everything he can, and Mac still wants more.

“Man, would you just look at yourself,” Mac says.  “You’ve barely gotten out of bed in like, six weeks.  Your doctor made it pretty clear.  Your meds alone aren’t going to be enough.  You have to go to this dye-electric - no, that’s not right - di - dial-hectic - “

“Dialectical behavioral therapy,” Dennis supplies.

“Yes - exactly,” Mac agrees.  “Look, you’re not getting any better, man.  You gotta do something.”

Dennis lets out a loud, gratuitous groan.  He finishes with a small shriek, throwing his limbs against his mattress repeatedly.

“Dude, I will handcuff you and drag you there.”

“Kinky,” Dennis mutters  
  
Dennis doesn’t want to go to fucking therapy.  He doesn’t believe in therapy.  No one has ever been able to understand him, and he doubts that anyone ever will.  He’s not stupid.  He knows the kind of reputation people with Borderline Personality Disorder get in the world of mental health professionals.  He’s not about to go into a place and bare his soul to someone who thinks of themselves as superior to him.   
  
So he tries multiple tactics to get Mac off his back.  He tries to be stern and immovable.  He feeds into his own grandiose thinking and delusions to push Mac away.  He plants himself firmly in denial.  And finally, they reach The Bet.  He makes a deal with Mac.  He’s going to get better by himself.  Without the help of a therapist.  And he’s going to be fine.  And Mac will hop off his dick.   
  
At least, that’s the ideal outcome.  Of course, it doesn’t really happen that way.  Instead, Dennis finds it nearly impossible to actually take care of himself.  Getting out of bed requires energy that he doesn’t have; forget everything else.  He feels almost amnesiac.  Unable to dress and groom himself, unable to cook or eat, unable to do things that would normally bring him pleasure or at least contentment.  Eventually, he decides that maybe going back to the bar will be the key.   
  
That doesn’t work either.  He can’t go two fucking minutes without Cricket, fucking Cricket out of everyone, reminding him that he tried to kill himself.  

“Dennis?  Yo.  Shit, man.  How you doing?”  Cricket steps up to him and holds his hand out.  Dennis doesn’t take it; nor does he say anything.  “Heard you tried to kick the bucket,” Cricket says.  The gang groans in unison.  Dennis facepalms.  
  
“Cricket - !” Mac hisses.   
  
“What?” Cricket asks, grabbing a beer from the counter and cracking it open.  “No shame in that, my friend.  Been there myself.  Super high at the time, so it didn’t work out, but you know.”   
  
Mac barrels around the bar and grabs Cricket by the shoulders.  “Aright, Cricket, why don’t you go smoke some PCP in the bathroom or whatever.  Just get out of here.”  He shoves Cricket into the bathroom and slams the door behind him.  “Sorry, Dennis,” he says sheepishly.   
  
Dennis cracks one eye open and sits silent for a moment before he says, “Fuck it,” and grabs a bottle of beer.  He knows it’s a bad idea.  He knows Mac’s going to be furious with him, but he can’t stop himself.  It’s like he’s watching himself from far away.  It’s like he doesn’t even have control of his own body as he slams drink after drink until he’s completely fucking wasted.   
  
Mac drags him home, fuming.   
  
They fight.  It’s a blowout.  Mac spits out some bullshit about Dennis’ suicide attempt.  He makes it about him.  He thinks Dennis is selfish.  He thinks Dennis trying to kill himself is selfish.  And maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t and maybe it doesn’t fucking matter but now, out of nowhere, Dennis is drowning.  The tears are coming and sobs rip at his throat and he can’t get ahold of himself.   
  
"You tried to kill yourself, Dennis!  You almost died! How could you do that?  How could you do that to me?  It was one thing for you to disappear to North Dakota, but if you had killed yourself?  What the fuck, Dennis?”     
  
There's something about Mac saying it.  Something that thrusts the knife right into Dennis' gut and twists it.  For so long, Mac has been an unrelenting comfort.  But something's broken now.  Something's fucked, and Dennis thinks it might be himself.   
  
There's something about the way Mac says it.  Something about the pain and betrayal in his voice; the sincerity and the acidity.  Nothing hurts worse.   
  
Dennis knows he's insecure.  He always has been.  Despite the many great things about him, despite his ability to see how wonderful he is, there has always been a creeping, gnawing insecurity, making him entirely too fragile at times.  But Mac has always been there to counter him, to catch him, to build him up.  He doesn't know what to do now that Mac is the one tearing him down.  Especially when Mac is tearing him down over something that's already in tatters.     
  
Dennis feels like the Earth has begun to spin too fast.  He can't deal with Mac being angry at him.  Not over normal, everyday things, but especially over this.  Dennis feels sick.   
  
No matter how much Dennis hates himself, Mac has always loved him.  Without that, Dennis is nothing.   
  
Dennis fists his sheets between his hands and sobs hard into his pillow.  The gaping hole inside his chest is enveloping him again.  The feeling that he’s nothing but a nuclear bomb comes back.  He thinks about Mac breaking up with his boyfriend.  He thinks about Brian Jr. being left out in the cold, and maybe he’s never put it this way before because he prefers to hold onto the narcissism but fuck, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think the world would be a better place without him.   
  
And just like it did before, the thought clicks.   
  
He should die.  He should just fucking die.  Nothing else feels even remotely plausible.  He has to die.  Dennis turns over onto his back, the tears slowing.  He stares at the ceiling, feeling as his breath returns to a normal rhythm.  He thinks about dying, about how much better it would have been if Mandy hadn’t saved him.  He feels phantom pain, phantom heaving and phantom toxicity boiling in his organs.  He feels fucking giddy.  Death is it.   
  
He doesn't want to overdose this time.  It went wrong before and it'll probably go wrong again.  Dennis considers other options.  They don't have any of the guns they used to have, and he doesn't want to go out and buy one.  It's too much work; he wants to die right now.  He has rope with his fetish shit and he knows he could probably tie a mean noose, but where the hell would he hang it from?  Their apartment isn't high enough for him to jump out the window.  That leaves him with one option really:  slit his wrists.  He knows it takes nine minutes to bleed out.  Mac will leave him alone for nine minutes if he acts angry enough.  All he has to do is sneak something to slash his wrists with.   
  
Dennis takes a deep breath and steels himself.  He moves slowly out of bed, but the upright motion still makes him dizzy.  He creeps to the door and carefully, quietly pulls it open.     
  
The living room is dark.  Mac is lying on the sofa, mouth open and snoring, asleep.  Dennis grins.  This'll be a fucking piece of cake.   
  
With soft feet, Dennis heads for the kitchen. His actions are automatic.  He doesn't even think.  He grabs the biggest steak knife they have and turns his left wrist upward.  His stomach flutters.  Once again, he feels insanely peaceful.   
  
Just as he's about to lay the blade into his skin, Mac wakes up.  Dennis freezes, heart racing against his ribs.  What happens after is a blur.  Mac says something, launches forward and without a moment's consideration, Dennis runs the knife through his wrist down to the middle of his forearm.   
  
Pain blossoms immediately alongside the blood.  Despite the searing sensation, Dennis knows he hasn't cut deep enough.  He's bleeding, but he's not bleeding fast enough.  It hurts, but it doesn't hurt near enough.  He's woozy, but he's nowhere close to passing out.  If anything the cut is much closer to the one he left on his thigh than anything lethal.   
  
Dennis is babbling, cursing loudly and screaming.  Mac’s wrapping his arm with dish towels, tying up his wound with a ripped strip from his t-shirt.  Then he’s on the phone, calling 911 and all Dennis can register is the idea of returning to the hospital, returning to suicide watch and probably being transferred against his will to some psych ward.  It sounds like hell, and Dennis launches himself forward to grab hold of Mac.

“No, no, no.  No hospitals.”

“Too bad!”  Mac types out three numbers.

“I don’t want to be on suicide watch again - Mac!”  He tightens his grip on Mac’s leg. 

“Then stop attempting suicide!”

“Mac, please - it’s not deep enough.”

“There is blood everywhere, Dennis.”

Dennis looks down briefly.  Mac’s right.  He chokes over his words, “Just - patch it up yourself.”

_“911 - what’s your emergency?”_

“Mac!”  Dennis squeezes Mac’s leg as hard as he can; which is not very hard, considering his left arm is slippery with blood and going numb from the tourniquet.

Mac pulls the phone from his ear and covers the receiver.  “Do you really think that’ll work?”

Dennis nods furiously.  “There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom.  If you wrap my wrist tight enough, I think I’ll be fine.”

Mac hangs up.  “If you bleed out on our carpet, I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Dennis wants to laugh, but he feels like he might pass out.  As Mac rushes to the bathroom, Dennis collapses onto his back, cradling his arm against his chest.  He’s really gotta stop being so fucking impulsive.  When Mac returns to the living room, his hearing has gone funny and his vision is going black around the edges.  Mac pulls his arm wordlessly into his lap and begins to work while Dennis fights to stay conscious.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” Mac is muttering.  

Dennis mumbles something incoherent.  He thinks he’s trying to agree with Mac.

“I can’t believe you fucking did this.  You’re a goddamn moron.  Why would you - ?  I was out here.  You could just talk to me, Dennis!  Do you even think, Dennis?  Like, you obviously didn’t fucking think.  Why am I even asking you?  Goddamn.  Goddamnit, Dennis.”

He carefully places at least twenty butterfly bandages down the length of Dennis’ arm, followed by the tightest, zigzagging mess of gauze wrap Dennis has ever witnessed.  But it stops the bleeding, and Dennis doesn’t have to go to the hospital so he accepts it and says nothing.

After he finishes, Mac runs a hand through his hair, which is laden with sweat.  “Let’s - fucking call it a night, huh?”

Dennis’ eyes flutter open.  “Yeah - yeah.”

Mac scoops his arms underneath Dennis’ armpits and hauls him upward.  Dennis leans against  him heavily as they trudge to the bedroom.  He almost blacks out before he hits the bed.  Mac slides in next to him, not even bothering to get under the covers or even take off his jeans.  He’s probably just as exhausted as Dennis.

Almost unconsciously, Dennis wraps his good arm around Mac’s waist.  He lifts his head just enough to get it on top of Mac’s chest.  He feels Mac relax underneath his touch; at least for a moment.  Mac looks down at Dennis, and Dennis can feel the curve of Mac’s chest shift.  He opens his eyes and cranes his neck upward.  Without warning, Mac leans down and grips Dennis’ face between his hands.

He smashes his lips against Dennis’, and Dennis’ eyes snap wide open.

Mac is aggressive.  He fists his hands in Dennis’ hair, pushing hard against his body.  He devours Dennis’ mouth.  He even bites Dennis’ bottom lip, and it’s swollen when he finally pulls away.  He leaves a centimeter of space between them.

“You’re going to fucking therapy,” he growls.

Dennis’ hand moves unconsciously to his lips.  “Oh, definitely.”

.

PART III

.

May

 

Naturally, they acknowledge nothing in the morning. 

Which, honestly?  Is fine.  Because Dennis doesn’t want to acknowledge anything about the previous night.  He knows he’s going to be stuck going to therapy no matter what.  It’s his second suicide attempt in three months.  No one will ever let him live this down if he doesn’t.

Mac makes an appointment with a DBT therapist, and Dennis concedes, a sweatshirt pulled down over his hands even though it’s almost summer.

Dennis walks into his first therapy appointment with his lip curled.  He hands off the questionnaire they forced him to fill out to the middle-aged woman sitting across from him.  He crosses his legs and fixes a permanent glare on his face.

The therapist adjusts her bifocals as she looks over the paper.  Her mouth is parted slightly, giving her a small double chin.  Dennis stares at it with disgust.

“You attempted suicide last week?” she asks, sounding surprised.

Dennis has to hold back a scoff.  He’s in this fucking intense psychotherapy, and she’s surprised he tried to kill himself.  “Yes,” he snaps.

“How?”

He blinks.  He wasn’t expecting that.  “I slashed my wrist.”

“Why?”

He coughs.  “I - I wanted to die.”

“Why?”

He narrows his eyes, sizing his therapist up.  “Why?” he repeats, incredulous.

“Yes,” she says.  “Tell me why you wanted to die.”

“I was - I was fed up,” he splutters.  “With me.  With myself.”

“Why?”

“Is that all you’re going to ask me?” he spits.  “Why?  Why?  Why?  Why?”  He doesn’t realize he’s leaned forward defensively until he feels a sharp pain go through his neck.  He’s insanely tense.

“Yes,” his therapist says, matter-of-fact.  “What we’re doing is called a Chain Analysis.  We’re getting to the very root of what happened.  Now tell me - why were you fed up with yourself?”

“I - what - why wouldn’t I be?” Dennis chokes.  “I’m fucking crazy.  I came home, and I just wanted to feel normal, but everyone’s treating me like a goddamn leper.  And I got tired of it, so I got drunk, and Mac - Mac got pissed and he said - well, not in so many words, but he implied - he thought it was selfish that I attempted suicide the first time.  He made it about him.  I almost fucking died - why should it be about him?  I’m the one in pain.  I’m the one who was too fucking depressed to function.  I was the one who got ditched.  He didn’t care about me anymore.  He had a boyfriend.  He didn’t fucking need me, so why does he care?”

He’s red in the face and sweating by the time he finishes, nearly halfway out of his seat.  He leans back, taking a deep a breath and closing his eyes.  No one talks for a long, dangerously silent minute.

“Dennis?” his therapist inquires.

He looks up at her, leaning his head against his hand.

“Talk to me about Mac.”

“I hate him,” Dennis says immediately.

“That’s not true.”

Dennis bites his tongue.  “No - no, I don’t hate him.  He’s my best friend.  He has been for thirty years.  He’s my roommate,” he adds as an afterthought.

“But you think it’s strange that he was affected by your suicide attempt?”

“He had a boyfriend,” Dennis says simply.

“So?” his therapist asks.  “He can’t care about you too?”

“It isn’t about whether he cares about me,” Dennis says.  “He didn’t need me.”

His therapist nods, and again, they fall into an uncomfortable silence.  Dennis looks away from her and down at his lap.  He wonders idly how much time they have left.

“Do you have feelings for Mac?”

Dennis’ head snaps up.  “No - no that’s - that’s absolutely ridiculous.  I could never put up with him.  I absolutely do not have feelings for Mac.

_But I kissed him._

His therapist sighs.  “Look, Dennis - we’re not going to get to the root of everything today, obviously, but I am still concerned for your safety.  You’ve attempted suicide twice in roughly three months, and you’ve listed accounts of self-mutilation, including burning and - slicing open your leg?”

Dennis nods, unable to actually say anything.

“Before we go any further with treatment, you need to commit to safety.  We’ll start with three months.  You have to commit to staying alive for the next three months and abstain from self-injurious behavior.  Can you commit to that?”

Truthfully?  Dennis doesn’t know.  But he scoffs and says, “Yes.”

His therapist grabs a clipboard from the coffee table and hands it to him.  “Sign there at the bottom.”

Dennis signs, the feeling of lead in his stomach.

“Now,” his therapist continues.  “Let’s talk about what your treatment plan will look like for the rest of the year.”

Dennis feels dizzy.

.

When Dennis gets home, he’s absolutely fucking exhausted.  His hand actually hurts from the amount of paperwork he filled out.  His brain is filled with words about safety and commitment and emotion tracking and skills.  So much bullshit about skills.  And the minimum requirement for this treatment is a year?  A whole fucking year?  Dennis isn’t even sure he’ll be able to stay alive that long at this rate.

He walks straight through the apartment without taking his shoes off.  He dives into bed face-first and Mac tails hesitantly behind him.  There’s a moment where all Dennis can hear is Mac breathing in the doorway.

“Get in bed, you freak,” he mutters. 

“It’s three in the afternoon,” Mac replies.

“So?” Dennis mumbles.  “I need a fucking nap.”

“You - you should probably eat, Den - “

“Stop nagging me,” Dennis growls.  “I’ll eat when I’m hungry.  Now get over here.”

The floorboards creak as Mac walks forward, and Dennis feels some of the tension leave his body.  The bed shifts beside him as Mac sits down, and Dennis rolls over.  He latches onto Mac’s side, draping his arm over Mac’s lap and laying his head on Mac’s stomach.  They fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence.

Dennis’ mind drifts, flashes of the last hour continually playing in his mind.  He already hates the things he’s learning about himself; he doesn’t want to learn anymore.

“Mac?” he asks after a long while, voice soft.

“Hmm?” Mac hums in response.

“Do you think I’m hopeless?”  He closes his eyes, scared to see anything when Mac gives his answer.

“No,” Mac says, sounding nothing short of incredulous.  “Do you?”

“Yeah,” Dennis replies simply.

Silence follows, and Dennis thinks Mac will just let him brood, but he doesn’t.  Instead, Mac’s hand grips the side of Dennis’ neck and nudges him upward.  Dennis opens his eyes just as Mac presses their lips together.  Dennis’ responds eagerly, but Mac pulls back far too soon.

.

Therapy is fucking bullshit.  He swears his therapist can see into his goddamn soul.  She pulls out things he would have never acknowledged at all in his lifetime.  She makes him remember things he thought he had successfully repressed.  He doesn’t understand how she finds them; not when he’s buried them so deep down inside himself that they no longer seem like a part of him.

The first thing she calls out is the eating.  

They’re working through something called the PLEASE skill in group.  It’s part of a larger module.  Emotion Regulation.  He already knows all four modules and at least eight skills.  After his first group therapy session, he went home and dug out everything he had on DBT.  And what he didn’t have in his own psychology book collection, he perused via the internet.  He still doesn’t buy half of this shit will work for him, but the stats are there.  DBT is proven to have an extremely high success rate.

Still.  Dennis finds DBT tedious and patronizing.  Which is why his first reaction to the PLEASE skill is to judge it as another ridiculous acronym with no real bearing on his “recovery” whatsoever.  Of course, his one-on-one therapist doesn’t feel the same.

“What do your eating habits look like, Dennis?” she asks.

“I skip lunch every day,” he answers automatically.  “Usually breakfast too.  I don’t need to eat much.”

His therapist stares at him, quiet for a moment.  He thinks his answer is perfectly normal.  He doesn’t need to eat.  It’s not a part of his routine, really.

“Dennis,” she says, calm but firm.  “You need to eat.”

He scoffs.  “I have my body perfectly under control.  I do not.”

His therapist smooths out her lap and sighs.  “I have access to your medical records, Dennis.  If I look at them what will they tell me?”

“That I’m perfectly healthy.  I’m actually probably super-human levels of healthy.  I take my physicality very seriously.”

She pulls out papers right in front of him and recites back to him.  “Severe dehydration, multiple vitamin deficiencies, anemia, low blood pressure.”

He curses under his breath.  “That - that’s never made any sense, alright?  I just - I eat enough to keep me going, you know?  And I’m - I’m always exercising.  I should be in perfect physical condition.”

“Dennis,” his therapist says, again in her same patronizing tone.  “You and I both know that you don’t eat enough.  You’re not going to be physically healthy if you don’t eat.”

“It - whatever, it doesn’t matter,” he says quickly.  “I look just fine.  I look perfect.”

“And that’s what this is about isn’t it?” she asks.  “You’re obsessed with your physical appearance to the point of denying reality.”

Dennis squirms in his seat.  “I’m not - I’m not denying reality.  Look, I - I take care of my body.  I keep it looking young and - and fit.”

“Why?” his therapist asks.

He opens his mouth, but only a small, strangled sound comes out.  “I - I need to be physically perfect.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I do!” he yells.  “I - I have to be, because I’ve always had to be - it’s what - it’s what everyone expects.  And - and who am I if I’m not a modern-day Adonis?  It’s - It’s me. It’s who I am!  I’m Dennis Reynolds.  My appearance is everything.”

His therapist nods, satisfied with herself.  She prescribes him multiple vitamin supplements and adds “anorexia nervosa” to his list of diagnoses.

.

Mac doesn’t care what Dennis’ body looks like.  Not when they’re fumbling around in the dark, hands constantly searching for bare skin, grinding their hips together in desperation.  Mac’s eyes are closed when he comes, hands fisted in Dennis’ hair.  His hands are warm and rough on Dennis’ cock, finishing him in quick succession.  Neither of them say anything.  They never do.

Maybe sometime soon they’ll leave the lights on.

Dennis rolls over and waits.  When Mac catches his breath, he’ll fit himself behind Dennis and spoon him, wrap an arm around Dennis’ slim waist.

Dennis doesn’t have feelings for Mac.  He doubts Mac has feelings for him either.  Not when he could find literally anyone better.  Dennis used to think he was the only one who could please Mac.  But these days he only ever feels broken and irreparably damaged.  He only really feels good for the brief moments that Mac is whispering his name during an orgasm.  It’s the only time Dennis feels useful for anything.

The half-assed sex isn’t special, but it’s appreciated.  It’s better than jacking off alone.  It doesn’t have to mean anything, Dennis reasons with himself.  If it meant anything, Mac would say something, because Mac would want that clarification.  But he doesn’t.  They give each other blowjobs and handjobs at home and in the office at the bar and it’s just a way to relieve stress.  They’re both under a lot of stress lately.

In light of the new diagnosis, Mac is in charge of making sure Dennis eats.  His therapist makes him track the food alongside his daily emotions.  Mac keeps the piece of paper tacked to the fridge.  All the calories stare back at Dennis when he looks over it.  Sometimes he just wants to punch Mac, his therapist, or both for making him do this.

The first weekend of Dennis’ food tracking, Mac takes them to the farmer’s market.

Dennis stands frozen when he catches sight of it from the sidewalk.  

“What is this?”

Mac wears a stupid, lopsided smile on his face.  “It’s my job to help you take care of yourself, so I figured - let’s at least get some good food for you.”

Dennis grimaces.  

Mac claps him on the back.  “Come on, dude.”

Dennis forces himself to move forward reluctantly.  “Is this a gay thing?” he mumbles.  “I feel like this is a thing that those stuck-up gay couples do when they want to show off how hip and trendy they are.”

Mac rolls his eyes.  “Last I checked, eating healthy wasn’t a gay thing, Dennis.  But I could be wrong.  I’m still pretty new to the newsletter.”

Dennis has to keep himself from grinning.

In the end, they’re there for a solid three hours, wading through stands of fresh produce and homemade goods.  They leave with four bags filled with vegetables, fruits, fresh bread, and even some jars of strawberry and grape jam.  Mac buys a bouquet of flowers on a whim as they leave, telling Dennis how sweet they’ll look on their shabby dining table.  Dennis gags.

They cook together that night.  Mac says some bullshit about how learning to love food will help Dennis overcome his urges for disordered eating, but Dennis takes the reigns only because he knows Mac is a shit cook.

He feels full for the first time in a long time and doesn’t feel guilty.

.

Dennis’ therapist hits the fucking jackpot when she finds out about the incident with Ms. Klinsky.  She shouldn’t have.  Dennis should have kept quiet, but he was just so angry with Dee, Mac, - the entire gang, really.  But mostly Dee.

He’d just come from group with Mac.  They think the bar is empty, but unfortunately, Dee and Charlie are there.  Dennis’ first instinct is to turn around.  Truthfully, he and Mac came here bang.  But Charlie and Dee will be suspicious if they head straight to the office.  Which means Dennis has to interact with them, which he really isn’t in the mood to do.  But Mac gives him a little nudge and he steps over the threshold.

Dennis collapses onto a bar stool, throwing his group notes down on the counter.  Dee hands him and Mac two glasses of soda.  

Dennis is trying his best to stay sober.  He slips up about once a week, but at least he’s trying.  Mac doesn’t drink around him, and that helps.  And the only alcohol in the apartment is the shit Dennis stashes.  Nothing ever really lasts long, because Mac has a nose for finding it and promptly throwing it out.  Dennis knows Mac still drinks though.  He goes out with Charlie.  He drinks at the bar when Dennis isn’t there.  Dennis wouldn’t expect anything else.  In fact, he’s kind of amazed that Mac has the strength not to drink around him or in their apartment.

As he takes a drink of his soda, Dee catches sight of his group notes.  She pulls the binder toward her and opens up.  Dennis chokes and scrambles to take it from her, but she dances out of his reach.

“Dee!” he screams.  

“Hmm, what is this that we have bookmarked?” she asks.  “Oooh.  Interpersonal Effectiveness.  Hmmm.”  She somehow manages to skip around the side of the bar as she reads it, thoroughly avoiding Dennis.

“You bitch - give it back!”

“What gets in the way?” Dee reads.  She finally sets it down.  “What does get in the way, Dennis?  You don’t even have this filled out.”

He snatches his notes up, closing the binder and tucking it under his arm.  “It’s homework,” he says defensively.  “I just got it.  Of course I haven’t filled it out.”

“You get homework?” Dee asks, making a face.

“Yes,” he says, setting the notes gently back on the counter.  “That’s how this therapy works, Ms. Psych Minor.”

Dee snorts.  “Whatever.  So what are you gonna write down?  What gets in the way of your ‘interpersonal effectiveness?’”

Dennis looks up at her, painfully aware of Mac and Charlie staring at the pair of them.  “None of your goddamn business,” he scoffs.  “Why do you even care?”

Dee shrugs.  “I just wanna know if this therapy is working for you, you know?  It seems like it’s a big deal.”

“It’s - it’s just - it’s whatever,” Dennis splutters, uncomfortable.

“I heard about your doc diagnosing you with anorexia,” Dee pushes.

Dennis closes his eyes.  “Yeah,” he says, short.  “She did.  So - so - who cares?”

“I’m not making fun of you,” Dee clarifies.

Dennis rolls his eyes.  “Then why are you asking me so many goddamn questions?”

“I’m curious,” Dee says.  “And I’m not the only one.  We all are.”

Dennis looks over at Charlie, pointedly ignoring Mac.  Charlie smiles sheepishly at him.

“Look, clearly - I don’t know how this shit works,” he says.  “But, like - Dennis, man.  If it’s helping you - like, that’s pretty cool.  And - and I wanna know more, you know?  ‘Cause like - you never really open up to us.  I can’t - I don’t understand how you talk to this therapist.”

Dennis sighs heavily.  “It’s - she’s like any other therapist,” he says.  “It’s just - I have to do all this shit.”  He points a hand at his notes.  “I learn all these skills, and write shit down, write down what I did and if it works.  I don’t know.  And I track my emotions.  Makes it easier to see how much they change.  And like - when they get out of control.  I track other things too.”

“Like what?” Mac asks.

Dennis swallows hard, meeting his eyes for less than a second.  “Like, um - if I feel like hurting myself or - or feeling suicidal.”

There’s a pregnant silence.

“Do you feel like that a lot?” Dee asks.

Dennis shrugs.

“You really tell your therapist all this shit?” she asks.  “‘Cause I never told my therapist anything, really.”

Dennis nods.

“Did you tell her about how Frank’s a piece of shit?”

Dennis gives a small smile.  “Yeah.”

“Did you tell her about the crack?”

He snorts.  “Yeah.”

“Did you tell her about being raped?”

“What - no?”  It takes more than a second for the words to make their way through his brain.  The only thing he can register is that he can’t immediately connect anything with what Dee’s talking about.  Then he remembers Ms. Klinsky and he feels a fire burn fast through his veins.  “Dee, goddamnit.”

“What?” she asks.  “You were raped, Dennis.”

“No I - I wasn’t,” he says firmly.  His skin feels itchy and tight.  He forms one of his hands into a fist over the cover of his notes.

“Dude,” Charlie says softly.  He takes a step toward Dennis.

“She raped you, man,” Mac adds.  “Like - multiple times.”

He looks up, horrified.  “How did you know it happened more than once?”

“You kept disappearing during study hall,” Mac says simply.  “Charlie and I thought you were banging someone.  But you’d come back shaking.  We didn’t - we didn’t make the connection until Dee pointed it out.”

Dennis stares at Mac, unseeing.  His skin is hot, but something feels cold inside him.  “Guys,” he says, quiet.  “I wasn’t - it wasn’t rape.”

“You know how you always told me I was in denial about being gay?” Mac asks.  “Dennis, I’m telling you right now.  It was rape.”

“Fuck off,” Dennis shoots back, and as soon as the words leave his lips, his rage flares up.  “All of you - fuck right off.  You don’t know shit.  You know absolutely nothing, you goddamned half-wits.”  

He grabs his notes and stomps out of the bar.

A week later, he’s still hot and fiery as he walks into therapy.  His therapist doesn’t even have time to greet him before he blurts it out.

“I wasn’t raped.”

She stares at him for a long moment, mouth hanging open, clearly unsure what to say.  When she does decide, she says, “Come again?”

Dennis huffs and crosses his arms.  “Dee and Mac and Charlie think I was raped, but I wasn’t.”  He doesn’t clarify any further.  He said it, so it’s true, and he waits for his therapist to jump in and defend him, validate him.

Instead, much to his infuriation, she says, “Why do they think you were raped?”

“I had sex with our school librarian when I was fourteen.  She was like - fifty, maybe.  Good-looking for her age.  Dee thinks she looked like Rick Moranis, but Dee’s fucking stupid, so.  I was willing.  I wanted it.  It - it was cool, you know?  She was an older woman.”

His therapist nods, but Dennis knows he hasn’t convinced her yet.  He digs his nails into his palm.

“Had you had sex before this?”

“No,” Dennis admits.  “She - she was nice about it.  She showed me the ropes.”

“What was your relationship like before this happened?”

Dennis shrugs.  All he can really remember was the sex.  And her smile.  And how she told him everything he needed to hear.  “She - she was nice.  She let me talk to her.  I felt like she understood me sometimes, which I didn’t get from anyone else.  And you know - the sex was fine.  I didn’t have much experience, so it was enjoyable for me.  I think she enjoyed it too, because it kept happening.”

“Dennis,” his therapist says, in that soft, hesitant tone that he knows means he’s about to get pissed and defensive.  He tenses.  “From a legal standpoint, that is classified as statutory rape.  You know that, right?”

“Legally, yes,” he snaps.  “I know.”

“And from what I’m hearing,” she continues,  “it sounds to me like she groomed you.  She made you feel special.  She made you feel like you could confide in her and trust her.  But she was using you, Dennis.  She was using you in a sick and horrible way.”

He shakes his head.  His throat feels oddly tight, and his eyes burn from behind.  “She was nice,” is all he can come up with.

“She seemed nice,” his therapist corrects.  “But she wasn’t, Dennis.”

They talk about a lot of things in the sessions that follow.  They talk about how all of this is tied to his body issues.  How being raped when he was teenager fucked up his perception of himself.  They talk about how he learned how to make himself starve very quickly thereafter.  How he used drugs and alcohol to fill himself instead of nutrients.

“I didn’t feel like my body was mine anymore.  Like - I had to give it to other people.”

“Dennis, do you dissociate during sex?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe.”

They talk about his hypersexuality.  They talk about how his compulsive and insatiable desire to have sex is inexplicably tied to his self-worth.  They talk about how he uses sex to self-harm.

“Do you feel good when you’re having sex?”

Dennis shrugs.  “I come - so.”

“Do you feel good about yourself, I mean?”

“I don’t - I don’t really know.  I - I like to critique myself.  I have - I used to have tapes.  I - I’d go back and watch myself and learn how to be better.”

“Dennis - “ 

“I wanted to be perfect.”

“That’s a lot of pressure.”

They talk about how he uses sex to harm other people.  

“I can’t stop myself,” he says.  “I’m in the middle of it, and it’s like I’m watching myself do it.  I can hear them saying no, asking me to stop, but I don’t.  I just - I want it so bad, and I don’t know know how to take control of myself again.”

“That sounds like something called, ‘depersonalization.’  You know this is something incredibly serious, right, Dennis?”

“I’m a rapist,” he says, and he wants to pull the pen from his therapist’s hand and stab his jugular.  When she nods, all he can see is red.  Whether it’s the rage or the desire to see his own blood, he’s unsure.

“I’m just like that horrid bitch, aren’t I?”

His therapist is quiet for a moment too long, and he doesn’t even listen to what she says next.

“You can change, Dennis.”

He goes home and he gets absolutely roaring drunk.  Mac doesn’t question him.  Instead, he sits on the floor of the bathroom with him, holding him and smoothing his hair back from his clammy forehead every time he vomits.

“Hey, Mac,” he rasps.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“I think this  - this is - this is the most I’ve ever wanted to die.”

“You’re not going to, though,” Mac says.  His voice sounds weird.  Watery.  Dennis looks up at him through blurry vision.  He can’t tell what’s wrong.

Dennis spends the next day in bed, but in the evening, he calls Mandy.  She can tell immediately that something isn’t right.

“Talk to me,” she says, and he listens.

“Mandy, um - did - when we had sex, did - did you feel like I forced you?”

“No,” Mandy replies without missing a beat.  “No - not at all, Dennis.  I - I thought you were really interesting, and I - I wanted it.  Is this why you haven’t called?”

Dennis takes a deep breath, steeling himself.  “I just - I needed to know if Brian Jr. was a product of - of something bad, or - “

“He’s good,” Mandy says.  “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  I love him.”

Dennis smiles.  “Me too, Mandy.  Me too.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.  I just - I’m a lot more self-aware.  And I - I’ve done really bad things, Mandy.  I’m not going to lie.  My therapist says I have a really fucked up relationship with sex, and I don’t - I don’t know.  It doesn’t matter.  I’m just trying to do better.”

“That’s good.  I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself, Dennis.”

“Thank you.”

He goes back to his therapist a disheveled and unshowered mess.

“Mandy says I didn’t rape her, but - “

“But what?”

“How do I stop?”

“It’s going to take a lot of mindfulness, a lot of digging into yourself.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Is this who you want to be, Dennis?”

He feels sick.  A voice in the back of his mind is shouting at him, “Yes!”, but there’s another part of him that fights it.  He claws involuntarily at his own skin.

“I don’t know.  I don’t know.  What if this is it?  What if this is just who I am?”

“I’m going to be honest with you Dennis.  This isn’t going to be easy.  There are a lot of reasons for your behavior, but you’re the only person who can change it.  And I want you to think about it.  I want you to think about all the women you’ve hurt and I want you to ask yourself why.  I want you to ask yourself if it’s worth the internal pain if it means you’ll stop the cycle that Ms. Klinsky started.”

Dennis doesn’t know the answer yet.

. 

After several sessions of dissecting his relationship with sex, Dennis thinks he’s made at least a little bit of progress, but he knows he still uses sex for bad things.  He doesn’t want to hurt other people anymore, not really, (at least, not innocent people - he’s still trying to change that to all people) but he still wants to hurt himself.  He’s glad he and Mac have some unspoken mutual need to blow off steam and frustration through sex.

So of course Mac has to go and ruin everything.

He’d talked about the time Frank pimped him out for money in therapy, and all he wants to do is destroy himself.  He’ll settle for Mac destroying him instead.  Mac can’t even get a word out when they walk through the apartment door before Dennis is on top of him, shoving him towards the couch.  Mac lets himself kiss Dennis just for a second before pushing him away.  Dennis keeps his hand firm on Mac’s thigh before trying to go back in, but Mac cranes his neck in the opposite direction.

“Dennis, look - I don’t really want to talk about this, but - “

“We don’t have to talk,” Dennis says, because when do they ever?  “We can just - “  He leans in, pressing a kiss to Mac’s exposed neck.  Mac shoves him back.  Hard.

“We have to talk about this, Dennis,” he says.  “Because I don’t want this.”

Dennis pulls back, stung.  He blinks a few times, eyebrows crinkling.  “You don’t want me?”

“No, no - “ Mac says hurriedly.  “It’s just - I think you need space.  You’re just - you’ve barely come to terms with what happened to you, and I - I mean the first time I kissed you was like an hour after you tried to kill yourself, and I - I feel like I took advantage of you.”

He looks so sincere that Dennis almost wants to laugh.  “So?” he says.  If there’s one person he doesn’t feel bad about manipulating, it’s Mac.  Because Mac always dishes out what Dennis serves.  “I take advantage of you all the time.  We take advantage of each other.  It’s what we do.”

“Yeah, and that’s fucked up, Dennis,” Mac all but shouts.

Dennis straightens up, pulling back all the way.  “What is going on, dude?  Since when do you care?”  It’s not like Dennis cares, right?

“Since you almost fucking died, man,” Mac breathes.  Dennis’ blood immediately runs cold.  “Have you not noticed?  The whole goddamn gang is different, Dennis.  We never actually thought one of us would do that.  And - and we’ve all realized how fucking unhealthy all of this shit is.  I’ve started seeing a therapist too, and - “

“You’ve what?” Dennis interrupts.

Mac sighs, runs his hands through his hair.  “I’ve started seeing a therapist.”

Dennis reels.  “What?!  When?  When did this happen?”

“Alright, well - the first time I dropped you off - I started talking to the lady at the desk about everything because I didn’t know how to deal with everything.  It was a lot of pressure, dude.  If you had died the second time, I would have felt responsible.”  Dennis swallows hard, tensing.  “Anyway, another therapist overheard, and she took me into her office and well, she was a really good listener, so I just kept coming back.  Every week.  I talk to her while you’re in therapy.  I’ve been sneaking out one of the other exits and coming back just so it looks like I’m coming to pick you up.”

Dennis turns away from Mac, facing forward.  He sighs heavily.  “Jesus, Mac - “

“Den, we shouldn’t - we shouldn’t be doing this.”

Dennis looks up slowly, feeling his throat tighten.  His eyes meet Mac’s and his stomach plummets.  He’s been working on being a better person, on giving instead of taking whatever he wants.  And he doesn’t - he doesn’t want to be this person.  He doesn’t want to fuck up Mac like Ms. Klinsky and Frank and his mother fucked up him.  Mac deserves better.  He’s finally comfortable with himself, and he doesn’t fucking deserve Dennis ruining that.

“You breaking up with me?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant and sarcastic.  He really just sounds pained.

“We aren’t - like, a real couple,” Mac says, adding salt to the wound.

“I know, I’m - “ Dennis sighs.  “Forget it.  I’m going to bed.”  He gets up and slumps a few steps forward before turning back.  “You - you should probably sleep on the couch tonight.”

.

Dennis doesn’t expect Mac to stick to his guns, but three days later, he comes home with a secondhand mattress he bought off somebody on craigslist.  He throws it on the floor in the “gym”, no bed frame, no sheets, nothing.  Just him and a comforter.  Dennis doesn’t sleep.

It’s been months, so Dennis’ meds are definitely working, but despite the stabilization, the depression comes gnawing back.  He keeps the alcohol in the bottle, but starts smoking cigarettes regularly.  This doesn’t escape his therapist.

“You smell like cigarettes,” she remarks.

“I’ve started smoking again,” he admits with a cough.

“Did anything happen?” she asks.

“I haven’t been sleeping,” he explains.  “I need something to pick me up.”

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

He shrugs.

“Dennis,” his therapist says knowingly.

He huffs.  “Mac moved back into his bedroom.”

HIs therapist nods.  He takes her silence as disappointment.  

“Hey - at least I didn’t fucking drink.  For once, I stayed sober.”

She nods.  “That’s good, Dennis.  I’m proud of you.  And in the future - remember, you can call me.  That’s part of your treatment.  You get coaching calls whenever you need.”

Dennis makes a face.  He can’t imagine calling her in the heat of the moment.  He can’t imagine retreating and calling his therapist when it’s way easier to just self-medicate.  He doesn’t need to be talked through situations like a goddamn baby.

“You have a judgment,” his therapist says.

“Yeah,” he snaps.

“Would you feel weak calling me?” she asks, practically reading his mind.

“Get out of my head,” he grumbles.

Despite this, he’s grateful that the conversation is thus derailed.  He doesn’t want to talk about Mac.  He isn’t exactly too keen to talk about his own misconceptions about who he is, but he’d rather talk about his fucked up expectations for himself than whatever he feels in regards to Mac breaking off whatever they had.

.

Dennis wishes it weren’t this easy to fall back into old patterns, but once Mac pushes him away, his knee-jerk reaction is start convincing himself that he hates Mac again.  This make things very awkward for everyone else in the gang, but Dennis doesn’t care.  If Mac’s going to play with his feelings like this, then his response is more than deserved.

Still, he can’t deny the fact that he softens up at times.  When they’re alone at the bar, when they return home at night and Dennis is tired, when Dennis has breakdowns and bad days - he doesn’t want to be alone then.  He knows he’s fucking with Mac’s feelings right back, but he can’t help it.

One night, Mandy calls him after work.  They have a nice conversation.  She catches him up to speed on Junior’s preschool shenanigans.  She even puts him on the phone for a minute so he can babble.  When he’s finished, he says, “Love you, daddy!” and Dennis feels the sadness prick his chest.  He swallows hard.

“Love you too, bud.”

He doesn’t have to say anything.  Mac just knows.  Cautiously, he approaches Dennis, who meets his gaze with watery eyes.

“Den - “

“You think I’ll ever stop feeling like a fucking failure?”

“Don’t - “ Mac says quietly, reaching a hand out towards Dennis’.

“Whatever,” Dennis huffs.  “It’s not a goddamn surprise.  Not when Frank raised me.”

“You’re not Frank,” Mac says, voice firm.

Dennis rolls his eyes, and a tear slips past his cheek.  “Fucking close enough.”

“That’s not true, Dennis.  You tried.”

“Tried and failed,” Dennis shoots back.  “Man.  Brian Jr.’s going to be so fucked up.  Frank may have been a horrible father, but at least he never tried to kill himself because he couldn’t handle being my dad.”

“Dennis,” Mac whispers.  

Dennis glances at him for a second.  His eyes are glossy, and Dennis forces himself to ignore that fact.  “Whatever,” he says again.  “It’s just the facts.”  

He retreats to his room, and slams the door in Mac’s face when he follows after him.  It doesn’t register until later that Dennis could have probably manipulated Mac into sleeping in his bed again.  By the time the thought crosses his mind, Dennis is already half asleep and he lets it go.

.

At his next appointment, Dennis’ therapist is annoyingly persistent at breaking through his walls.  He starts by talking about his relationship with Junior, and somehow, just like every other goddamn conversation he has with her, they end up talking about Mac.  To be fair, he did mention the bit where he rejected Mac’s comfort, practically asking for his therapist to harp on it.

“Why do you push Mac away?”

Dennis shrugs.  “It’s not just him.  I push everyone away.  Charlie.  Dee.  Mandy.”

“Why?” his therapist asks.  “You care about them, right?”

He shrugs again.

“Dennis.  I know you care about them.  I know you love your son, your sister, your friends.  You’ve made that clear in our sessions.”

“So?” he says with a scoffs.  “It’s not like I’m going to let all of them know that.”

His therapist almost facepalms.  “Dennis - why not?”

“I - why would I - why would I bare myself like that?” he splutters.  “I don’t want them to know that shit.  What - what if they use that against me?”

His therapist raises her eyebrows insanely high.  “Use what against you?  The fact that you care about them?”

“Yes,” he says, like it’s obvious.  “That’s just not how we work.  Trust me - I’ve told Dee that I love her, and she just - she scoffs at me.  Charlie thinks I hate him most of the time.  I do hate Frank.  We just - we don’t do that kind of shit.”

“What’s stopping you?” his therapist presses.  

“Well, they’re not going to return anything,” he says.  “They’ll just scoff like Dee or roll their eyes or whatever.”

His therapist is quiet for a moment, and she gets that look on her face - the one that tells Dennis that she’s barreling right through his and the gang’s bullshit.  He sighs heavily and slumps in his seat.  

“What?” he asks.

“You’re afraid that your friends don’t care about you?”

He narrows his eyes.  “I don’t - I don’t - whatever.  That doesn’t matter.  I’m just not going to be the idiot who lets his feelings out when no one else does.”

“Why not?  What if you did?  What if you did and they followed suit.”

Dennis makes a guttural noise of annoyance.  “Look - you don’t understand how deep this shit runs.  Frank withheld any ounce of love he may or may not have had for me and Dee our entire lives.  The only person he gives a shit about is Charlie, and that’s just because of their weird homoeroticism and the fact that Frank might actually be Charlie’s biological father.  Dee laughs at me when I show her affection.  Charlie all but ignores it.  I - I had to put anthrax in our Valentine’s Day box before any of them would even consider the fact that I wanted affection from then.  And even then, Mac was the only one who - “  Dennis stops himself abruptly, realizing he’s backed himself once again into that same corner.

“You put anthrax in a Valentine’s Day box?” his therapist questions.

“It was powdered sugar,” Dennis mutters.  

His therapist sighs heavily; Dennis doesn’t blame her.  “Dennis,” she starts.  “You have to start letting yourself be open about love.”

Dennis recoils.  “Why on Earth - ?”

“You’re depriving yourself of something human beings need.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“That you’re depriving yourself or that you need love?”

“Both,” Dennis answers honestly.

His therapist is quiet for a moment too long.  “Dennis, do you think you deserve love?”

He feels an uncomfortable heat run up his body.  “I - either way, it doesn’t matter.  Because the gang just isn’t about affection.”

“Is that really how you want your relationships to be?”  

Dennis swallows.  His mind moves to Mac.  He thinks about the possibility of telling Mac how much he means to Dennis and wants to vomit.  Maybe years ago.  Maybe back when they had weekly movie nights and monthly dinners Dennis could have said something.  It wouldn’t be too far off from that speech he gave in the middle of Guigino’s the night Charlie and Frank crashed their dinner.  He could have done it back then.  Now?  Not a chance.

“Yeah,” he lies.  “That’s how I want my relationships to be.”

 

June

 

At the beginning of the summer, on an evening that’s spent lounging in the soft sunlight, Dennis gets a call from Mandy, who tells him she finally got a job in Philly.  Dennis feels something drop in the pit of his stomach.  He doesn’t know if it’s excitement or dread or maybe a twisted combination of both.  He swallows hard. 

“When are you coming?”

“About two weeks,” Mandy answers.  “I found an apartment a few weeks ago, but I waited to sign the lease until I officially had the job.  I’ll have to pay a fee to terminate the lease on the house here, but - whatever.  It’s worth it.  I haven’t told Junior yet, but I know he’s going to be so excited to see his dad again.”

Dennis finds himself feeling lightheaded.  He tries to smile, but his mouth forms a grimace.

“Dennis?” Mandy prompts at his silence.  

He gives himself a shake.  “Can’t wait,” he forces out.  He searches his mind for something else, something honest.  “I miss Junior.  And you.”

Mandy lets a moment of quiet pass.  “Don’t stress about this, Dennis.”

“Me?  Stress about this?” Dennis says, overexaggerated.  “I’m chill.  I’m a chill guy.”

Mandy snorts a little laugh.  “I’ll call you tomorrow.  Goodnight, Dennis.”

Dennis sighs.  “‘Night, Mandy."

He hangs up and stills a moment, staring down at his blackened screen.  Behind him, the door to their apartment opens, and Mac walks in.  He comes with basic groceries - bread, eggs, milk, from the Wawa down the block.  He catches Dennis’ eyes immediately and senses his anxiety.

“What’s going on?” Mac asks as he closes the door behind him.

“Mandy called,” Dennis replies.

“What did she have to say?” Mac calls over his shoulder, dropping off the groceries on the table.

“She’s moving to Philly.”

Mac whips around.  “Really?  Aww, dude, that’s great!”

Dennis nods.  “It is,” he agrees, but his voice sounds lifeless.

“Den?” Mac asks.  “What’s wrong?  You’re not excited?”

“I mean - I am,” Dennis says with a sigh.  He leans back against the couch, finally dropping his phone beside him.  “I’m just - I don’t know Mac.  It’s been months without them.”

“Dude, are you scared?” Mac asks.  He shoves the milk and eggs in the fridge before hustling over and joining Dennis on the couch.

“No,” Dennis says, automatically, all but scoffing.  “I - yeah, I’m scared,” he admits.  “I haven’t seen Junior since - I mean I was only home for like an hour when I packed up all my shit and left.  Before that, I - well, I didn’t even say goodnight to Junior.”  He feels his throat grow tight.

Mac’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder.  “Den, you don’t have to talk about this - “

Dennis shakes his head.  This is one of those rare moments where he has to, where his feelings feel like they’ll explode out of him if he doesn’t vomit them out.

“I didn’t even say goodnight to Junior.  Usually - when I got home from work, I’d sneak into his bedroom, say goodnight.  I actually - I don’t even remember when I stopped doing that.  I stayed up - I don’t know how long.  Whenever he cried, Mandy went to him.  She told me I couldn’t see him anymore.  That was it.  I just - I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Dennis doesn’t even recognize that he’s crying until Mac’s hand is on his face, his thumb wiping away the wetness from Dennis’ cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Mac whispers.  “Dennis, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

Dennis scowls.  “Shut up, Mac.  I’m not - I’m not gonna blame you for shit.  Not something like that.”

“But - “

“I used to blame you, and Mandy, and Dee and Charlie and Frank - for everything.  But my therapist told me that wasn’t helpful, and fuck, she’s right.  Why give other people that much control of my life?  So don’t even start with me.”

Mac doesn’t respond immediately.  After a minute or so, Dennis looks over to see Mac actually tearing up.  Dennis recoils.

“Why are you crying?”

“I just - you were hurting so much, Dennis, and I didn’t even know.”  He sniffles.  

Dennis rolls his eyes.  “Yeah, well - things are different now, so stop.”

Mac just turns away, trying to cover up the fact that he continues to cry.

“Jesus, Mac,” Dennis mutters.  “You’re like a goddamn infant.”

Mac turns back, frowning.  “You’re a fucking jerk.”

There’s no hesitation, no consideration - nothing.  Just like magnets, they come crashing together.  As soon as their lips touch, Mac rolls over and settles himself in Dennis’ lap, straddling him.  His hands crawl to the back of Dennis’ head and fist his hair.  Dennis leans into it, wraps his hands around Mac’s waist, pulls him flush against himself.  He widens his legs just enough to feel Mac against his groin.  He moans into Mac’s mouth.

Mac ducks down, hands grabbing the hem of Dennis shirt and pulling up.  Dennis helps him along, throwing his arms above his head as Mac pulls his shirt off.  As soon as he’s clear, Dennis rips Mac’s shirt off in a breeze before heading straight for his belt buckle.  Mac breaks the kiss and hauls himself up to his knees, his crotch now in Dennis’ face.  Once his jeans are off, he dives back down, his lips falling hard against Dennis’.  His hands find their way to Dennis’ zipper, who moans again.  

With his lips hovering against Mac’s mouth, Dennis croaks, “I need you, Mac.  Fuck.  I need you.”

Mac responds by shoving a hand down Dennis’ pants, teasing his hard cock before shoving his jeans down his hips.  His briefs come next, and Dennis lets out a sharp gasp when Mac pulls his cock free.

“God - fuck,” Dennis hisses.  He’s already leaking.  A pleasant, straining warmth has settled in his abdomen, and his hips buck as Mac begins pumping him.  “Ma - Mac,” Dennis gasps.

“Tell me what you need,” Mac whispers.

“Fuck me,” Dennis breathes.

Without further hesitation, Mac pushes Dennis’ jeans and briefs completely off.  Dennis spreads his legs wider and lets his hips sink farther down.  Mac’s hand brushes his cock as his fingers head for Dennis’ asshole and he thrusts forward.  Mac laughs into his mouth, and Dennis whines 

“Please, Ma - “

He doesn’t even have time to finish before Mac is pressing a finger inside him.  Dennis breaks the kiss as his head falls back.

“Fuck.”

Almost immediately, Mac inserts another finger.  He pushes in and out, scissoring his fingers as the muscle allows.  Dennis lets out a string of high-pitched noises, his breath coming in stilted huffs.  After a couple minutes, Mac inserts a third finger, and Dennis can hardly control his body at this point.  The only thing that matters is Mac.

“Lube?” Mac breathes.

“In one of the side tables,” Dennis replies.  He takes a moment to thank his past self for always being prepared.

Mac pulls his fingers out for a long agonizing minute as he grabs the lube and slathers his own cock in it.  With what’s left on his hand, he presses his fingers back inside Dennis until the muscle relaxes once more.  Dennis pulls him down for a sloppy kiss before pushing away again.

“Get inside me, you fuck.”

Mac huffs a laugh before easing himself in.  Dennis keens.

“Jesus - “

Slowly, Mac begins to thrust.  Dennis continues to let out involuntary noises.  Without fully realizing it, Mac begins to move faster, thrusting harder and harder until Dennis is unable to fight the sounds coming from his throat.  He’s all but screaming, mangled swear words mingling with everything else.  Mac grunts in rhythm, thrusting and thrusting until Dennis comes, nails digging into Mac’s back.

“Fuck, Mac,” he whispers through the aftershocks.

Mac comes as soon as he hears his name, filling Dennis up.  He stays inside Dennis for a long moment before pulling out with a disgusting sound. He leans down and smothers Dennis with another kiss before collapsing beside him.

.

The first thing Dennis tells his therapist at their next session, before even saying hi, is, “We fucked.”

She blinks. “You and - “

“Mac.”

She blinks again.  “Care to explain how that happened?”

Dennis sighs heavily.  “I don’t really know.  One moment I was talking to him about - about the night I tried to kill myself, and then we were kissing and it just - it kept going.  Up until recently, we’d been, like - fooling around stuff, but this was the first time we actually . . banged.”

“So - ?”

Dennis shrugs.  “I don’t know.”

“Did you guys talk about it?”

He snorts.  “Of course not.”

“And it was consensual?”

He feels a surge of panic.  He knows he wanted it - did - did Mac?

“Dennis - “ his therapist prompts.

“Mac kissed me,” he says out loud, ears ringing.  “He - “  He feels a blush creep up to his cheeks and clears his throat.  “I was on the receiving end.  And I - I definitely wanted it.”

His therapist nods.  “Yet something tells me that you feel troubled about this.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but is struck with silence.  There are a lot of thoughts swimming around his head but he can’t pin any down.  He stares at the floor, confused and more than a little lost.

“Let me ask you a question, Dennis,” his therapist says.  “In your life, have you ever felt true and genuine connection with any of your sexual partners?”

He looks up at her but doesn’t give an answer.

“None?” she asks.  “What about Mandy?”

He shakes his head.

“I know we’ve discussed your sexual history and patterns at length, so I won’t get into it - but do you think something’s different with Mac?”

Dennis nods, slow and distracted.  “I - I felt something with Mac.”

His therapist smirks, and Dennis wants to hide.  He doesn’t need an “I told you so”, so he appreciates it when she says, “What do you plan to do about that?” instead.  To which he answers, “Nothing.”

“Dennis.”

He presses his lips together.  “What’s the point?”

HIs therapist stares at him like he’s stupid, and maybe he is, but he is not about to start wearing his heart on his goddamn sleeve after forty years of holding shit in.

“Mac and I could never be a couple.  We’re horrible to each other.  He annoys me.  And he has a shitload of resentment for me.”

His therapist sighs heavily and rubs at her right temple.  “Dennis, are these facts?  Have you asked Mac if he resents you?”

“I don’t have to,” he says with a scoff.

“Dennis.  Check the facts with him.”

He groans loudly.  It’s been months and he’s still not a fan of using DBT “skills.”  He only tries them when he’s desperate, and he’s definitely not desperate right now.  And what does his therapist know about Mac anyway?  They’ve never met.  Dennis knows Mac.  And Dennis knows that a romantic relationship with Mac would just be a waste of time.

“Alright, look,” his therapist continues.  “You can’t read Mac’s mind.  You can’t possibly know what he’s thinking for sure.  You can guess, and you might be right.  But you might be wrong.  What’s the worst thing that could happen if you told him that you felt something?”

Dennis looks at her with disbelief.  “Umm - he could laugh in my face.  He could tell me that he could never ever feel anything for me.  He could tell me just how much he actually hates me and everything about me that makes him hate me.”

“And how would you deal with that?”

Dennis’ gut reaction is to say, “Uh - kill myself,” but he knows his therapist would probably freak out, so he takes a moment to come up with something else.  “I - um, probably get drunk,” he responds honestly.

“No - first of all, you’d call me.  Because you can, and you should.  Second, I’m going to have you cope ahead so you wouldn’t.  Third, you’re going to talk to Mac, because your fear?  It’s not justified.”

“No - absolutely not,” Dennis says, raising his voice immediately.  “I am not talking to Mac about my goddamn feelings.”

“Yes, you are,” his therapist insists.  “And I’m going to help you by introducing you to a new skill - the DEAR MAN.”

“The dear what?” Dennis asks, using every ounce of his strength not to roll his eyes.  “Is it going to be as stupid as everything else I’ve done so far?”

His therapist laughs, which honestly unnerves him.  “You try it, and then you tell me if it’s stupid.”

Dennis puts his face in his hands.  “I hate you.”

.

Dennis is alone in the bar, working on that godforsaken DEAR MAN when the door opens and Dee and Frank walk through.  Frank makes a beeline for his office, shouting absolute nonsense at Dee, who noses her way over to Dennis.  Distracted by their offensive voices, he momentarily forgets what he’s doing and doesn’t cover his paper up.

“Whatchya writing?” Dee asks, reading the words before Dennis even registers what she’s said.  “Wait - what does that say?  ‘Dear Mac, I’ve been thinking about what happened the other night’ - Oh, shit!  Did you guys bang?”

Dennis crumples up his paper in a flash, blushing furiously.  “No.”

Dee raises an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he admits.

Dee cackles hysterically, cracking open a beer and taking a swig.  “God, finally.”

He widens his eyes.  “What do you - what?  Finally?”

With a loud belch, Dee slams her bottle on top of the bar.  “Dennis, you and Mac have had insane sexual tension since high school.  When he finally came out, I thought you two would start fucking like rabbits, but your pussy ass went to North Dakota instead.”

Dennis blanches.

“Honestly, I can’t believe me and Charlie fucked before you and Mac.”

“You and Charlie fucked?!” Dennis all but screams.

Dee nods, taking another drink.  “Many, many times,” she says, like it’s impressive.  “Last night, actually.  That’s what me and Frank were arguing about just now.  He’s pissed that Charlie keeps spending the night and taking valuable time away from Nightcrawlers.”

Dennis stares down at the countertop in horror.  “What the fuck has my life come to?  You’re banging Charlie, I have feelings for Mac, and I’m doing this dumbass homework for this stupid intensive therapy I signed a contract to be in.”

“Wait - “ Dee says.  “You have feelings for Mac?  Oh, shit - Dennis.  Oh, my god.  I thought this was just some casual thing, but you have feelings for him?!”

“Shut up,” he hisses.  “I haven’t said anything to him.  That’s why I’m filling out this goddamn paper.  My therapist wants me to talk to him.”

Dee laughs obnoxiously again.  “Oh my god.  Dennis, your life really is crazy.  Jesus.”

He sighs heartily.  “Shit, I know.”

“Well,” Dee says, letting out another belch.  “At least things are moving quickly.  Thank god.  Mac’s been pining after you for years.”  She heads for the bathroom.  Her words take a second to sink in, and then Dennis is shouting after her.

“Wait - _what?!”_

.

Mandy arrives as promised two weeks later.  Her apartment is only five blocks from Mac and Dennis’, and it comes with a guest room just in case Dennis ever wants to sleep over.  There will be late nights of course - babysitting and bonding, and they both know that Dennis would rather leave at three am than spend a comfortable night in his own guest bed, but the option is still there.

Dennis picks them up from the airport, Mac right beside him  He may or may not have begged for his presence in moral support.  Brian Jr. is bleary-eyed and slumped on his mom’s hip, and despite the nerves and the voices berating his fatherly experience, Dennis feels a surge of unbridled love.  He scoops Brian Jr. up easily, smiling widely when his son recognizes him and throws his tiny arms around Dennis’ neck.

“Hey, bud,” Dennis croaks.  “I missed you.”

“Miss’t you, Daddy,” Brian Jr. says.

Everyone stands still for at least a minute, Dennis unwilling to move with Junior practically choking him.  The feeling of his son on his side is too comforting.  After months ruminating in his own failure as a father, having Junior hanging onto him like this is some sort of relief.

Mac lays a hand on his shoulder, and then the moment’s over.  Dennis looks up, meeting Mandy’s soft gaze.  He clears his throat and passes Brian Jr. back.  Mandy smiles at him, but he ignores it.

“Into the car, guys,” he instructs, wiping a hand over his mouth.

Mandy only brought the necessities in her suitcase, which means her and Brian Jr. are left sleeping on an air mattress Dennis picks up from Wal-Mart.  They order takeout and sit around on the floor of Mandy’s apartment.  Mandy catches Dennis up to date on everything since their last phone call, telling him about a visit to her parents and how Brian Jr. had some sassy remarks to make.  He can’t help but smile when Mandy adds, “Looks like he’s starting to take after his dad.”

Despite the lack of furniture and his aging body reacting badly with the hardwood floors, Dennis spends a good three hours sitting around, playing with Junior and catching up.  After months fretting over the effect his suicide attempt might have had on his son, Dennis only falters once - and it has nothing to do with his own fathering abilities.  Something crawls into his chest as he watches Mac.

With a wide, toothy grin that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, Mac plays with Junior, chasing him around the empty apartment and teasing him.  He scoops Junior up with a grunt, hanging him upside down over the back of his arm.  Junior lets out a shrill laugh, and Dennis feels like he’s been kicked in the gut.  He’s breathless and clammy, the unfamiliar feeling of adoration pulsing along in his veins.  Maybe Mac was onto something a year ago, way back when Dennis first met his son.  Maybe Mac wasn’t crazy at all to think that he and Dennis could be fathers together.

 

July

 

Dennis hasn’t talked to Mac yet, and with Mandy and Brian Jr. moving to Philly, it doesn’t look like he’ll ever have time to sit down and finish writing out the script for the conversation he wants to have with Mac.  Instead, Dennis spends most of his time watching Junior.  Daycare is more expensive in Philly than it was in North Dakota, so while Mandy’s working her new job, Dennis spends the day with Junior.  Once she’s done, he’s free to bartend, and any other work he’s “supposed” to do, is of course done by Frank, who’s more than happy to take charge over his “incompetent” son.

It’s different, being back in Philly, being in his home and having his son around.  Dennis waits for the depression to come crashing back, for the feeling of being completely overwhelmed to push him back over the edge, but it never comes.  Sure, he’s still working nights and spending his days with Junior, but Mac’s there, and Dee, and Charlie, and Frank even has his positives - taking over Dennis’ responsibilities, no matter how convoluted his motives are, is a huge help.  The difference this time is Dennis isn’t alone.  Or lonely.  

The only thing he has to deal with now is his own internal bullshit.  The more he’s in therapy, the harder it is to revert to his god complex.  The more he works at elevating his self-esteem, the more his narcissism lessens.  He’s left with a middle ground that isn’t severe, but isn’t exactly comfortable either.  Additionally, he keeps finding new things to hate about himself.

“Why don’t you like yourself, Dennis?” his therapist asks in their first session of the month.

“I do like myself,” he argues.  “I’m an attractive man.  I have money.”

“Is that all?” she asks.  “What about your character?  Is there anything you like about yourself as a person?”

Dennis momentarily short-circuits.  “I - I’m fantastic at sex,” he answers, but he immediately tracks back.  “I mean - I’ve only had sex with Mac in the last - wow.  He’s the only one, huh?  I didn’t do anything in North Dakota.  Before that?  Hmm.”

“Dennis,” his therapist says, bringing him back to the present.  “Do you think you’re a good person?”

Dennis actually laughs at that.  “No,” he says a scoff.

“Do you think you have good qualities as a person?”

“Hell no,” he responds.  “I think I’m a piece of shit.  But at least I know it.”

“You’ve been in DBT for several months,” his therapist points out.  “Do you think anything’s changed for you?”

He shrugs.  “I don’t know.  I think I’m still awful.”

“Does that bother you?”

He shrugs again.  “The people in my life are just as awful.  I mean - except - well, Mandy and Junior.”  His demeanor changes rapidly.  His over-confident grin falls, and he swallows hard.

“Do you think you’re a good father, Dennis?” his therapist presses.

He clears his throat.  “I guess - I just - I want to be a good father.  I’m trying - “

“I know you are,” his therapist says, voice soft.  “You’re trying very hard, Dennis.  I think that’s admirable.”

His eyes prick, and he rubs a hand over his mouth and chin.  “I don’t - I don’t know that I always like being, um - being like this.”

“Being like what?” his therapist asks.

He grips at his chest, handing shaking.  “Like - like I don’t feel anything.  Like I don’t have feelings.”  He clears his throat again, realizing it’s gotten exceptionally tight.  “A few years back, Charlie’s mom - well, she didn’t have cancer - but she told us she did.  And Charlie - Charlie was wrecked.  Mac and Dee had no problem consoling him, but I - I didn’t feel anything.  I couldn’t even pretend for his sake.  I just - I was apathetic.  His mom, for all I knew, was fucking dying, and I didn’t give a shit.  Mac was really freaked out.  He was scared for me.”

“Why?”

“He thought I was going to hurt myself.”

“Were you?”

Dennis shrugs.  “Maybe I was depressed.  But it wasn’t just that.  I just - didn’t care.  And I’m like that all the time.  I just - don’t care about other people.”

“That’s not true,” his therapist argues.  “I know you care about people a great deal.  You care about your son and Mac, your friends, your sister - you know that, Dennis.”

He hiccups.  “Then - then why don’t I feel anything sometimes?  Why do I feel so empty?”

His therapist sighs.  “A lack of empathy is a symptom of Borderline Personality Disorder.”

He takes a moment to let that sink in.  “Are you saying there’s not something broken in me?”

“No,” his therapist reassures.  “No, Dennis.  In fact, a lack of empathy is associated with victims of abuse.  Turning off your feelings, dissociating - it’s easier than dealing with them - especially when they’re intense.”

He nods to himself, feeling strangely light-headed.  “When I do feel things,” he all but whispers.  “I really fucking hate myself.  Sometimes I just think about the fact that I’m forty-one years old, and I have nothing to show for myself.  I’m single, I have a son who doesn’t have a solid relationship with me.  I own a bar that fronts for my father’s money-laundering schemes.  And I’m crazy.”

“Dennis - “

“Whatever.  I know you’re gonna say something like - I’m trying.  I’m forming a relationship with my son, I’m actually communicating with Mac for the first time in my life.  I’m vulnerable.  And I’m in DBT and taking care of myself - or whatever, but - “

He looks up to find his therapist smirking at him.

“Goddamnit,” he hisses.  “You’re good.”

.

It takes some convincing, but eventually Dennis agrees to let Brian Jr. go to a waterpark with the two of them.  And this time, Dennis actually gets in the water.  Overall, it’s fun.  Brian Jr. has a blast, the sun is nice, and Dennis gets to take his shirt off.  The only thing that kills the mood is when Mac says whispers his name with a horrified expression on his face, eyes locked on Dennis’ thigh.

“Dude - what?”

Dennis looks down, blissfully unaware for a moment, but then he understands.  There’s that white, angry line running up his thigh, skin absolutely mangled.  There are other lines too, ones that have accumulated over many, many years, which is why Mac makes the connection so easily.

Dennis coughs.  “Um - I did that, yeah.  Box cutter.”

Mac just stares, dumbfounded.  “Dude - “

“It’s bad,” Dennis says, nodding, feeling the heat creep up his neck.  His eyes dutifully follow Junior splashing in the wading pool, ignoring Mac’s glassy gaze.

“When - “

Dennis heaves a deep, shaky breath.  He closes his eyes, swallowing the irritation that wells up in his throat.  “I - it was the night you broke up with your boyfriend,” he says, choking on the last word.

Mac narrows his eyes, confused.  “What does that have to do with - ?”

“You guys broke up because of me,” Dennis explains.  “Because I was an asshole and I left you, and I know now that that probably messed with your head.  I just - I felt like it was my fault.  And - and I know I’m not - I’m not nice, really, but - I just wanted you to be happy, man.  And I felt like I took that away from you.”

Mac stands absolutely still, breathing shallow breaths, mouth stuck open.  “Dennis - 

Dennis coughs into his hand.  He knows his eyes are getting wet and he wants to punch himself.  “Whatever, Mac.  It’s - it’s over with.  It healed.”

Mac heaves a deep, deep sigh.  “Do - do you still hurt yourself like that, Den?”

Dennis shakes his head.  “Not since this,” he says, lifting up his left wrist.  The scar there hasn’t turned white yet, it’s still an irritated pink color.

“Good,” Mac says, voice pinched.  “Good - I’m glad.”

Dennis gives him an awkward, curt nod before breaking away and walking to Junior.  Mac follows beside him, silent, but Dennis feels his desperate concern.  

.

Dennis’ days with Junior follow much the same pattern.  Mandy drops him off at Mac and Dennis’ apartment, sometimes she stays for breakfast - like today.  And Mac and Dennis take him out to enjoy all that Philly has to offer in the summer - which usually isn’t that much.  At least, not in their neck of the woods.

“Any plans for today?” Mandy asks as Mac sets down eggs in front of her.  He glances at Dennis, who shrugs.

“We’re kind of running out of ideas,” he says.

“Hmm - you know, I think there’s something going on in the park today,” Mandy says, reaching for her phone.  As she pulls it out, Mac’s phone goes off.

He looks down at it, and as he sees the screen, a look of confusion crosses his face.

“What the hell - ?”

“What?” Dennis asks, taking a sip of coffee.

“Hold on,” Mac says, not evening looking at him.  He heads to their bedroom, answering the phone with, a “Hello?”

Brian makes grabby hands after him.  “Mmmac?”

Dennis glances toward him.  “He’ll be back in a second, Junior.  I think.”

Mac is gone longer than a second.  After a solid ten minutes, and the sound of Mac raising his voice, Mandy gives Dennis a nudge.

“What?” he asks, startled.

“Go check on him,” Mandy urges.

Dennis blinks at her, alarmed.  “No - no.  I’m not - he’s fine.”

Mandy glares at him.  “He sounds upset, Dennis.  Talk to him.”

“Alright, alright,” Dennis huffs.  He gets up from the table slowly.  He’s halfway across the living room when Mac comes out of their bedroom, red in the face and eyes glassy.  Dennis’ nerves dissipate, immediately replaced by concern.  “Mac?” he asks, hurrying forward.

Mac clears his throat.  “It’s - it’s nothing.”

“No - no, tell me.  Something’s wrong, Mac,  Talk to me,” Dennis urges.  He places his hands on Mac’s shoulders and gives a soft squeeze.

Mac coughs.  “Um - that was my ex-boyfriend.  He - he says he regrets breaking up with me and wants to go out and - and catch up.”

Dennis scoffs.  “Well, you’re not going to, are you?  You said he was a total prick.”

“Um,” Mac says, avoiding Dennis’ gaze.

Dennis’ eyes widen.  He cranes his head forward, looking at Mac in disbelief.  “What - you’re not seriously considering getting back together with him, are you?

Mac shrugs.  “I don’t know - I mean - we didn’t work great, but that was before.”

“Before what?” Dennis asks incredulously.  “Before you put your head back in your ass?”

“Before you came back,” Mac says, raising his voice a little.  “Before you lost it and I lost it and started seeing my therapist.  I’m a different person than I was a year ago.  Maybe me and Andrew will work now.”

“Oh - Andrew, is it?” Dennis spits.  “Well, maybe Andrew is still an asshole - ever think of that?”

“He wasn’t that bad,” Mac says defensively.  “In fact - maybe he was right - maybe I was unhealthily obsessed with you.  Maybe I depended on you too much.  Maybe our relationship was fucking toxic, Dennis.  Maybe I just didn’t want to hear what he had to say so I let him walk away.”

Dennis stiffens.  Yeah, sure - so their relationship was never exactly great, but toxic?  Come on.  Slowly, he turns around, finding both Mandy and Brian Jr. staring at him in apprehension.  “Would you excuse us for a moment?” he says with a fake smile before grabbing Mac by the forearm and dragging him into their bedroom.

As soon as the door shuts, Mac rips himself from Dennis’ grip.  “Ow - god, Dennis.  See - this is exactly what I’m talking about.”

“What?” Dennis growls.

“You’re so fucking controlling,” Mac hisses.  “You never give a shit about what I want.  It’s always about you, Dennis.  Well - maybe I’m fucking sick of being your goddamn lapdog.  Maybe I want my own life.  Maybe I don’t want to be just Dennis’ roommate and caretaker anymore.”

Dennis actually has to take a step back.  “Jesus, Mac.  I don’t - you’re not my caretaker.  You’re - you’re my best friend.”

Mac scoffs, crossing his arms.  “Hardly.”

Dennis narrows his eyes.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dude - you’re not even my friend, honestly,” Mac mutters.  “You treat me like shit.  And - and my therapist keeps telling me that I just don’t know how to leave, or maybe I don’t know what I want and - whatever.  I’m tired of this.”

A horrible, pulsating hollowness manifests in the pit of Dennis’ stomach.  “Tired of what, Mac?” he asks, but he already knows what Mac’s going to say.

“This,” Mac huffs.  “Our relationship.  God.  I just wish that once you’d actually care about me, you know?  It’s like - ever since you got back to Philly, I’ve dedicated everything to helping you get back on your feet.  And I thought - I thought once you got through all the bullshit - when you weren’t suicidal anymore, when you went to therapy - that you might actually give a shit about me.  Dennis, you don’t even know how fucked up I was.”

“Mac - “ Dennis starts, but he can’t say anything else.

“Whatever,” Mac sighs.

“No,” Dennis says.  He feels a surge of something violent.  “No - goddamnit!  No, Mac - it’s not whatever.  You can’t just - you can’t just - “

“Dude, I’m going out with Andrew, and you can’t stop me.  I don’t even know why you care so much about this.  You just don’t want me to be happy, do you?”

“What?” Dennis screeches.  “What are you going on about, Mac?  I care about you.  I fucking - I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, alright?  And goddamnit - I want you to be happy.  Fuck.  Fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” Mac shouts.  “Fuck you, Dennis.  Fuck you for always doing this to me.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Dennis says through his teeth.  “You’re so fucking stupid, Mac.”

“There you go,” Mac says, throwing a hand in the air.  “Tear me down like you always do.”

“Fine,” Dennis screams.  “Fine.  You’re right!  I’m fucking selfish, okay?  The only reason I don’t want you to get back together with your stupid boyfriend is because I’m fucking in love with you okay?”  He breathes rapidly, chest heaving up and down.

Mac just stares at him, dumbfounded.  Panicked, and unable to even hear Mac’s response, Dennis flees the bedroom.  He walks straight past Mandy and Brian Jr., out the door, and down to his car.  

He jumps in and drives without paying any attention.  He doesn’t fight the dissociation, but instead lets it guide him until he’s rolling to a stop in a neighborhood he doesn’t recognize on the border of the Schuykill River.  He swallows hard, trying to shove down the visceral urge to jump off the overpass bridge ahead of him.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck -

He curls his fingers into his palm, making tight fists that dig his fingernails into his skin.  He looks down at the underside of his arm, wishing he could just reopen his scar and do it right this time.

Goddamnit.

Is he really doing this again?  Is he really sitting here, rifling through the ways in which he can kill himself again?  Is this bullshit ever going to end?

His hands grip the ten and two positions of his steering wheel and he squeezes.  His head sinks down, chin resting against his collarbone.  Tears are coming hot and fast and he shuts his eyes against them.  He can’t breathe.  He can’t fucking breathe.  In an instant, he’s sobbing, unable to regain any sense of self-control.

It takes at least a half an hour for the sobbing to taper.  Any time Dennis thinks the feeling is coming to an end, it restarts.  Every time he thinks he might be able to stop reliving his fight with Mac, something else he said reverberates in Dennis’ mind.  After an hour of intermittent sobbing, he screams at the top of his lungs.

“Goddamnit,” he chokes.  “God-fucking-damnit.”

It’s a sudden flush of depersonalization that makes him feel the phone in his pocket.  A shaking hand takes it gently from his pocket.  He has about two-dozen calls from Mac and Mandy each, and another dozen from Dee and Charlie, but he ignores them.  Instead, he unlocks his phone and dials the number he has saved but has never used.

“Hello?” his therapist answers after the first ring.

The only thing he can get out is a choked sob.

“Dennis?” she asks.  “Dennis, are you okay?”

“I can’t - “ he heaves.  “I can’t - “

“Dennis, do you need an ambulance?”

“No,” he spits out.  “No, but I - I want to kill myself.  I want to kill myself.”

“Where are you?”

“In my car,” he hiccups.

“Where is your car?”

“By the Schuykill River.”

“Dennis, I want you to drive away from it - just a few blocks.  Then call me back.”

He does, and the momentary task is enough for him to stop sobbing and start hiccuping at regular intervals.

“Alright, now tell me what happened,” his therapist says when he calls her back.

“Mac and I had a fight.”

“What about?”

A stabbing pain goes through his chest.  “His ex-boyfriend asked him to go out again, and he was going to, and I got angry, and he - he went off.  He told me how horrible I am, and he’s right.”

“Dennis - “

“He’s not wrong.  He’s not wrong, okay?  I am horrible to him.  I can’t - I don’t know how to express my emotions.”

“You’re working on that.”

“It’s not enough.  It’s not enough.”

“You’re doing the best you can.”

“What if I’m not?  What if this is just who I am?”

“Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know.”

There’s a beat of a silence, and then Dennis continues, “I told him I’m in love with him.”

“What did he say?” his therapist asks.

Dennis shrugs before he remembers that he’s on the phone.  “He didn’t say anything because I ran out of the apartment before he could.”

“Dennis, you need to talk to him.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“What if he - “

“If you can’t deal with it, you call me right back, okay?”

“I - “

“Okay?”

Dennis sighs heavily.  His hiccups are mostly gone.  He just feels tired now.

“Okay.”

He hangs up, but before he calls Mac, he listens to the voicemails Mac left him in the last hour or so.

_“Dennis?  Where did you go?  Your car’s gone and you’re not answering my texts.  Call me back.”_

_“Dennis?  Why aren’t you answering your phone?  You’re freaking me out man.  Please call me back.”_

_“Dennis, I’m really freaking out.  I’m scared.  Please don’t do anything stupid.  Please.  Just call me.”_

_“It’s me again.  I’m sorry I said all that shit to you.  I’m sorry, man.  I should have - I shouldn’t have been so harsh.  I could have - I could have done things a lot differently, but I chose to hurt you instead.  Dennis, please.  Please don’t do anything you might regret.  I still care about you, bro.”_

_“Dennis, please.  Fuck.  I’m so scared.  Where are you?  Come back.  Please.”_

Dennis doesn’t need any more persuasion.  He starts his car, plugs his address into his phone, and drives home.  Mac, Mandy, Brian Jr., Charlie, Dee, and Frank are all waiting outside on the sidewalk.  Mac sinks down to the ground when his car rolls up.  As Dennis steps out, his face still puffy and red, Mac stands up wordlessly and walks toward him.  For a split second, Dennis isn’t sure what’s going to happen.  Then Mac pulls him into a bone-crushing hug.  When he lets go, Dennis has half a second to say, “Mac, I’m so - “ before a fist is colliding with his jaw.  He spits blood on the ground.  

“I deserved that,” he says.  

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Mac says softly.

Dennis looks up at him with a wince.

“Why would you run away?”

Dennis rubs his cheek.  “Well, I spilled my fucking guts out.   Didn’t want to know what you had to say back.”

“This is why you’re a fucking idiot,” Mac scoffs.  “Did you really think my response was going to be anything other than ‘me fucking too’, you stupid fuck?”

All Dennis manages to choke out is a strangled noise from the back of his throat before Mac is on him, lips pressing against his mouth so hard his teeth break skin.  Dennis reels.  Mac pulls away.

“Is the entire gang staring at us?” he asks.

Dennis looks over Mac’s shoulder.  “Uh - yeah."

Mac shrugs.  “Fuck it,” he says, before surging ahead for more.


End file.
